Follow the Red
by PrettyPrettyPlease
Summary: "I will always find you." With accomplishment comes renown. Being renowned makes you prey. Someone wants Ariadne dead or alive so none but Eames and Arthur have entered the race to find her first. This is a game of various cats and one tiny Parisian mouse.
1. International News

**Follow the Red**

So I started working on this one around the time I started finishing up my story Say It, went through a bunch of writer's block and put this away to pursue a different story line. Now that that one is past the halfway mark, I've delved back into this one and I'm pretty excited. I haven't done a story where A/A's romantic relationship isn't really established. Crappily, 's image loader thing won't load my entire image without cropping it, so the link to the story banner is on my profile. :P I know this chapter is short but it's just to get the ball rolling.

I do not own Inception or the characters. They're fun to mess with though!

**Chapter 1- Is He Coming For You?**

_Yeah he's coming for you.  
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run,  
better run, outrun my gun.  
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run,  
Better run faster than my bullet._

****

Ring.

It was 7 am when Arthur got the call.

He'd been up since five. He showered, brushed his teeth, put on the infamous three piece suit, gelled his hair and sat down to an omelet and cup of coffee while reading the New York Times. He was in-between jobs and expecting to meet up with a potential client this Wednesday. In the meantime, he was free to roam New York and wrap up the most recent job the team had worked together. It was five and a half months since the Puckett job and things were running smoothly; their last payment was to be wired in by lunch. There was another month of isolation to go…which is why it startled him when Cobb's name flashed across the screen of his phone. Normally they kept little contact and when Arthur called to check in, it was always periodically. The two friends had developed somewhat of a schedule of it. Upon answering, Arthur hadn't been able to utter a word before Cobb ambushed him with a question, "Have you been watching the international news this morning?"

The Point Man cleared his throat and turned the page of the paper. The stocks page proudly displayed its statistics and some doctor was explaining why coffee was bad for you (again.) "No, I hate politics. You know this."

Cobb ran his words together, "Miles just called me…he's safe. He's been sick so he sent a substitute into class today."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. Well if Miles was safe, then what is Cobb's issue. International News? What was Arthur missing? Clearly he had missed part of the conversation while he was reviewing the latest news on Wall Street. "I'm glad he's alright but I'm not sure I'm following, Cobb."

"Turn on CNN."

The Point Man lazily obliged, his interest only piqued. The news anchors were on a split screen yelling into their earpieces at each other but he couldn't quite make out what they were fussing over. There were people running and ambulances pulling up and around. It was only then that he caught the language being spoken: French. The ticker across the screen read 'University of Paris-Sorbonne shooting. Art and engineering departments in full lockdown. 224 killed. 435 severely injured.' The only other person they knew from that University was…

"Ariadne. Is she ok?" Arthur's voice was short and rigid. He stood instinctively.

Cobb sighed, "No one has heard from her. Miles is having a meltdown. Yusuf is out of pocket. I have kids to take care of…James has a cold, I can't up and leave them."

Arthur was already on his laptop booking the next flight to Paris. He held his cell phone in place between his ear and his shoulder as his fingers furiously flitted over the keys to accomplish his mission. "I'm on my way. I'll call Eames. Do me a favor from LA?"

"Whatever I can."

He was packing the last of his necessities-variety of guns, passports, wireless routers- into a small duffel and heading out of the hotel when he asked, "Do some periodical call-ins to hospitals. Call me if she's been admitted into any."

Cobb nodded his head as if Arthur could see him and pulled up Google on his computer to find some phone numbers to be of use, "Will do."

"I hope I don't hear from you." Arthur answered grimly as he hung up and speed dialed Eames. The forger answered in that annoyingly smart ass way as usual. Arthur had no patience for it this time. To rephrase, Arthur had even less patience than normal this time. As he explained the events to Eames, the Brit's demeanor quickly changed to match the situation. He asked question after question, each of which Arthur had no answer to; this only amplified the anxiety in both the men.

"Eames you can get there faster than I can. You're closer. I just—Miles needs to know she's alright."

Despite the situation, Eames smirked at the slip up of the Point Man but answered seriously. In fact, he informed that he was already on his way to the airport and had already purchased a ticket on his smart phone. It was only a three hour and twenty five minute flight for Eames and a 7 hour for Arthur. He promised he would answer when Arthur called on his layover. The Point Man thanked and the Forger relished in that. As Arthur pulled up to JFK Airport, he braced himself for 4 hours of pure stress.  
xxxxxx

The plane ride was less than enjoyable; normally they calmed Arthur. On this fine flight, the only thing he could think of was knocking the pilot out and flying to London himself. Surely he would get there faster. If he missed his next flight because this pilot was reveling in the particularly sunny clouds this morning, there would be one less pilot on American Airlines. This Frank Bennett- who loved to make stupid jokes and small talk with his passengers instead of booking it to their destination- better enjoy those sunny-ass clouds. They just might be the last thing he'll see. And….the damn flight attendant must've asked him for a drink every two minutes on the nose. He was polite when he rejected her and always asked how close they were to landing. She would be polite and tell him they were two minutes closer and two minutes later would offer a drink again. No. He couldn't afford to be the least bit hazy. Not in this situation. He needed to be alert, lord knows Eames would arrive aloof and drunk and make matters worse.

Eames had landed in Paris on the happy side. He was not too keen on turning down alcohol when it was offered on the plane. Especially in this stressful situation. He needed to be calm, lord knows Arthur would show up with a stick up his arse and make matters worse.

Arthur had taken his watch off when the start of the third hour of his flight came around. Looking at it every other minute did nothing for his nerves. Every minute that passed was that much longer Ariadne could be bleeding to death in some hospital somewhere…or worse, lying helpless in her school's hallway…or worse, already dead. _When was this plane landing, again?_ He scuffled in his seat and tried his best not to awaken the massive passenger who'd claimed the aisle seat of his row. Eames' flight had been slightly delayed due to weather and had just made it to baggage claim when Arthur had called. "Anything?"

"I've just landed. It's raining cats and dogs here." Eames was standing outside under an umbrella waiting for a cab to pull up. "And the cab service is slacking today. Bloody fantastic." Despite the slur, his voice held an edge.

Arthur tapped the waiting chair with his fingers in an unknown rhythm, "Well, my next flight is fixing to board. You've got three hours to find out something. Have some info for me when I get there. Let's hope this pilot isn't as damn leisurely as the last."

Arthur's next flight was worse if that was possible. Due to the thunderstorms in Paris, all flights were put on hold. His airplane had to circle the city until clearance from the towers told them it was their turn to land. The Point Man fidgeted with his buttons as he looked out his window. The turbulence was settling down but it was torture knowing he was there in Paris but stuck in the air. He peered through the window for who knows how long, trying to find any sign of ambulance lights, bunches of cars, maybe people…it was futile though. Even if there weren't dark flashing clouds in between him and the city, he wouldn't be able to make out anything of that sort.

Arthur called Eames as he was driving to the University, ramming the accelerator into the floor of the rental car. Being a forger in the waking world as well, Eames had convinced the French authorities that he was an investigator so he could peruse in the chaos. He used bits of jargon he'd learned from studying a mark of theirs that was an investigator himself and he'd always carried different passports, ids and badges in case such an opportunity or circumstance called for them. By sticking his nose in closed off areas, eavesdropping and impersonating a substitute teacher for a spell, Eames had discovered two things in the three and a half hours Arthur was en route.

One: Ariadne had gone to school that morning.

Two: The seat that she _always_ sat in was sprayed with blood.


	2. Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson

Hello! So this chapter is unbelievably long and I want to apologize! The following vignettes from various time frames each hold some **information that will be useful** in future chapters so my flashbacks have a purpose this time!

I'm so excited about the response! Thank you! To _Nina, twelvepastnever, Legal-Assassin-006 _and_ actressen! _

**Chapter 2: Sherlock and Dr. Watson**

**10 months earlier.**

Ariadne put her pencil down and took one last swig of her water. On her way to the front door she discarded her recently used dinner plate into the sink and shrugged on her dark blue cardigan. Months of being paranoid and watching over her shoulder for faceless companies gave her plenty of practice to be cautious. She looked through the peephole and saw the back of a suited individual. She'd know that person anywhere.

The sound of the door jarring made him turn around to greet her, taking his hand off of his holster while doing so. "Arthur." She'd said with surprise held in her tone.

"I have a few things about the job to run by you. Would you mind?"

Wordlessly, she stepped aside and welcomed him in, trying to keep the shock off of her face. Arthur had come to her to discuss ideas about the job? That was something she figured he'd run by Eames…well no, his value of Eames' opinion on things wasn't the highest. Still, maybe the lead extractor? Or their new chemist for the job? Even the client…she was just the architect. This was just her third job, what would she know? The thought of his 'running' ideas about the job by her was thrilling. Finally, she held more weight on the team. She'd earned his respect and obviously his trust in her opinion. He politely refused the offer of a drink and took a seat on her sofa. He observed the textbooks and sketches strewn over her coffee table and the open laptop screen drenched with words in French. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

She'd brought a glass of water and set it on the table in case he wanted it later. Ariadne then sat in the space on the floor between the couch and the coffee table where her work was piled, "No, just finishing up homework."

"Well, I can wait for you to finish."

"You sure?"

Arthur nodded and they settled into a comfortable quiet. Both typing away on their laptops, the occasional rustle of files and scratch of her pencil. She closed her laptop and her hand came dangerously close to his leg when she grabbed the couch seat and used it to turn and face him. "Ok, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"How are you feeling?"

Heavy sigh. Eyeroll. "You're checking up on me…"

xxxxxx

"_She looks like a hot little thing tonight, doesn't she?"_

_Arthur smirked as Eames continued, "I didn't think Ariadne even owned a dress, much less the ability to pull it off…but holy hell."_

"_Eames." He scolded. The chemist had arrived behind her and they were both greeting the extractor before joining Arthur and Eames at the table. The client was sitting across from them and the Point Man found Eames' conversation unprofessional…no matter how accurate. The employer was sitting right there._

_Ever ignoring Arthur's pestering, Eames continued, "She never struck me as the model type but…"_

"_Her legs are gorgeous," surprisingly the client entered the conversation, "Those jeans she wears leave no clue of it."_

_The subject of conversation and the other two team members were now making their way to the party, "Ok, I think we've had enough of that kind of talk." Arthur reprimanded. He'd taken on a protective role when it came to the young Parisian. In this business, it was hard to come across a woman. So most of the men that came in contact with her would at least look if nothing else because hey, she was a woman. Arthur felt it disrespectful to let anyone objectify her. _

"_You don't think she looks good, Arthur?" Eames quipped._

_Oh God…The forger never failed to push Arthur to look at things in an unprofessional manner. It was inappropriate for Arthur to look at her that way and form an opinion. "She looks…" For the first time, he let his eyes rake her and notice everything the former had mentioned. "…very nice."_

"_But not the least bit sexy?"_

"_No." Arthur pointedly glared at Eames to make him shut up. She was in proximity to hear their conversation._

_The forger poked just as Ariadne slid in next to him, "Your trousers say otherwise."_

_Amused and filled with the excitement of seeing her team again and the rush of a new job, she quickly joined in, "What do Arthur's trousers say?"_

_Arthur tried to steer the conversation in another direction and so disregarded her question, "Good Evening, Ariadne."_

_Eames nudged Arthur, "Yes, It _would _appear they're saying such."_

_He gave Eames a sneer and noticed Ariadne's suspicious glance at he and Eames. After dinner and an agreement on payments and otherwise, the client suggested they all head to a club and celebrate. Drinks sounded refreshing. However, with the reaction the Architect received from the team in that outfit, Arthur decided he wasn't too comfortable with an entire club of drunken men violating her personal space._

"_Come on Arthur…she's young, she's attractive, she's in college. She _should_ go partying." Eames winked at Ariadne, "Tally ho!"_

_Perhaps he could alarm her studious nature, "It's already ten thirty. Don't you have class in the morning?" He looked at his watch for emphasis._

"_Yes, dad." Sarcastic. "But you extended my bedtime to eleven remember?"_

"_I didn't mean it like that." _

"_You know I'm only a couple years younger than you. Not a decade. Maybe I look innocent and inexperienced because of this adorable face but…"_

"_You don't want to be around drunken Yusuf and Eames, trust me…" He laughed, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence._

"_I'm in college, I've been dragged into clubbing plenty of times." And that was exactly the kind of sentence Arthur had wanted to prevent himself from hearing. "If I could handle all of those drunk men…I can handle our boys."_

_It made him sick to his stomach but he backed down. He let her go off with the guys and dance around and be swayed by Eames to drink…and drink…and drink. He sat at one of the tables and supervised. Finally, he just left. Forcing himself to trust her judgment. She was levelheaded, he was positive. But the next day, he would make sure she fared fine after he'd gone._

xxxxxx

He ignored her statement and continued expecting an answer, "I wasn't hung over this morning...no, I never called that guy and no I'm not going with the guys again tonight. Happy?"

Plot twist, Arthur took the conversation in a different place than she was expecting, "I want to apologize for over stepping my bounds. You're a grown woman. You can make your own decisions." She nodded and he continued, "The actual reason that I'm here is that-since the rest of our team would rather spend tonight partying again, I thought I'd do some brainstorming on my own. I wanted to inquire if you'd like to help me formulate a plan to pitch to Mankens tomorrow."

"Really?" She joined him on the couch and grabbed her laptop. "I'd love to help you."

xxxxxx

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her pencil collided on his desk, asking for attention without coming right out and saying it—and really, isn't that just Ariadne? Arthur slowly tore his eyes from his research and addressed the girl leaning over his desk. "Will you look over the model really quick? Jacobs suggested some changes…"

"Yeah. Sure." He re-buttoned his suit and closed his laptop for the time being. He followed her to her desk, a bit excited. He always enjoyed discovering the structures she came up with. Upon first look he saw winding tunnels, a circular maze, some of his choice staircases and another board of swatches and wall colors.

She started, "Ok. Well we took out this wall and lined curtain walls around the outer rim of the building. Two flues in the main hall, in case we: A. Gas the projections or B. Need an unseen escape route. He also suggested I delete the third Penrose Staircase and add a parapet on all the balconies for additional cover from gunfire."

"Looks immaculate," he analyzed the ins and outs of the model, "but I think we need another level up for complexity reasons. Is there any way we could add windows all along this outer wall," he waved his index finger in front of the desired area, "to be able to see how the other members are progressing and keep an eye on the projections?"

She winced wearily, "I suppose…but that sort of defeats the purpose of being inconspicuous. Especially, if you have to stand at or near the window to see anything. They could shoot you through the window; they could see you get behind the parapets…the element of surprise would be eliminated."

He clicked his tongue as his ideas came to a dead end.

"But I guess I could just expand the floor level and make the ridge a mezzanine- like balconies of theaters-that would provide good visuals and create more running space. I could make the gradient up the mezzanine into Penroses and still be able to keep all the outside parapets and the maze of the wraparound balcony." Ariadne looked questioningly at him, for approval.

"You're the creative genius, whatever you think. I just hope I can remember all the additional details to do it justice in the dream." He smirked and kept sweeping his eyes all over the model. When he heard the weary tone in her voice he met her eyes.

"That's another change Jacobs and I agreed on…"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "…he wants you to cover him and be his co-extractor…if you get shot, the dream can't collapse. He needs Eames in the next level too in case the need for a forger comes into play and Lucas refuses to go under. He wants out as soon as the compounds are complete. So you don't have to build the dream…I am." She forced an innocent smile because she knew what was coming. For all of Arthur's respect for woman, he worried about how she would fare entirely too much.

"And you agreed on this without me? We constructed this plan together before Jacobs ever even thought about it, we pitched it, we were the two to spearhead the entire operation and you made this decision without consulting me?"

She started walking back towards his desk, "Well with all due respect, Arthur, I figured you'd be against it."

"Well, yes. You're _the architect_. You design the dreamscape, you teach it and you're done. Architects don't usually go under unless a team is shorthanded and ours is not. There are three members capable, they just don't want to and are forcing you into it."

Ariadne tried to ease his ruffled feathers. He was agitated with the other men. He saw their decision as insensitive to her and that was not the case. "No one's forcing me. I volunteered. I miss going under; I didn't get to on my last job."

"That's standard."

She shrugged, oblivious to the underlying message of his, "I went under for Inception."

"And it continues to blow my mind that you made it out in one piece." They'd arrived at his desk, so he leaned against the corner of it.

"Why don't you want me to do this, Arthur?" She innocently challenged as she hopped to sit on his desk. He shook his head and looked away agitatedly so she kept going, "When you tell me no, it only makes me want to do it more."

Arthur swallowed, "You're not trained. If you were I'd be…less skeptical. I would train you myself but that process takes the time and focus of an actual job. We can't train you before the mission; it's impossible. You'll be left behind on that level and you don't know how to ward off projections or use a gun or hide the fact that you're the dreamer. You don't know how to protect yourself in a dream yet."

"You'll be under though, right?" she raised an eyebrow and picked up to observe the contents of his coffee cup.

He nodded, confused, "Yes."

After hopping off his desk, she teased, "You're overprotective. You won't let anything happen to poor little old me." And back to her desk she went. For the first time, Arthur noticed just how her hips swayed when she walked and how far under his skin she could dig herself, without even realizing it. Damn Eames, for making these thoughts a habit by force.

xxxxxx

She did it. She actually did it. She held off the projections and kicked them up in impeccable timing. Admiration was swelling. Arthur looked across the aisle after waking and saw Eames kick her seat. She shot a look back at him but softened when he winked and gave her the ole 'perfecto' hand signal. On Ariadne's way to face front again, she caught Arthur's eye. He nodded approvingly and was rewarded a small smile.

This was the part she always hated. After the feelings of accomplishment rushed through her and the subtle looks had been exchanged, it was time to be strangers again. She would exit the plane without looking at any of them, she would collect her luggage without a word and she would walk out the door of the airport and never look back. She would spend the next two months in isolation, withdrawal, and anxiety. Paranoid when someone stared for too long and waiting by the phone, wishing that another job would be thrown her way. Ari hated not knowing when she would see these people again. If she never saw Mankens or Jacobs or Lucas she would be fine but she would miss Eames and Arthur dearly. She hated feeling like they could care less if they ever ran into her again. She hated the feeling of another job over, of sitting in the cab alone. The emptiness, the let down. The end of a high.

He was beginning to dislike this part. He'd never cared before. He and Cobb had always, always worked together. They were a team. There was no love lost when it came time to part ways because the next job would bring them together again. And it was inevitable that life would throw him and Eames together again. He couldn't get rid of the forger if he tried; he figured he was bound to working with him sporadically for the rest of his life. It sucked that he was so damn good at what he did or Arthur would avoid calling on him. He'd begun to dislike this part because he didn't like feeling out of control. He didn't like being unsure. Unsure of if or when he'd see—yes, _the architect_ again. The feeling was foreign, the feeling of…missing someone? Maybe a variation of missing someone, a watered down version but it was strange none the less. He hadn't expected to sit at the airport bar and watch her until her figure had long disappeared out of the gate. He hadn't even realized that was what he was doing until he caught himself staring out into space. He'd tried to pick his reaction apart on his plane ride back to the states and decided to shake it off. Two months went by and that weird feeling was null and void again. Until he got the next job.

xxxxxx

5 Months prior to Present Day.

The heels of her shoes clacked against the wood of her flat as she busied herself. The navy blue sling bag was swung to rest on her shoulder and her blazer of the same color was shrugged on on her way to the door. Briskly down her hallway, she walked. Ariadne turned the corner and bumped into someone, muttered a quick sorry and headed for the elevator. "Ariadne."

She paused. That person she'd bumped into…brown suit jacket, polished shoes, laptop bag, stark voice. She felt in her pocket prior to facing the stranger and found that this was a friend. "Arthur?" She smiled, "What are you doing here?"

"I had a favor to ask but I'll let you get going."

She's missed those ambiguous eyes, "I'm not in a hurry." She stepped closer and encouraged him to continue, a bit too excitedly for his taste.

Arthur observed his surroundings first and then hushed his voice, "I'm doing research for another," he nodded in lieu of the word 'extraction', "and the mark is an architect."

Ariadne's eyes narrowed at him and she took his sleeve to drag him back to her flat. The door was unlocked and she shooed him inside. He wasn't able to distinguish whether she was more anxious and weary or exhilarated and curious. More likely the latter if his perception of her was correct…Arthur's perceptions were always correct. "Go on," she urged.

"A guy named Puckett hired me. The mark is Etienne Fournier; do you know him?" He set his case down on her counter.

"Yeah…yeah! Professor Miles has had him come guest teach. I don't _know_ know him but I've met him."

"Do you know anything specific about him?"

"I know he has two firms. One here in Paris and his original in Marseilles. He's done a couple commercial buildings but he's known for his residentials in the countryside. From what he's taught, he seems to favor the neoclassical style…I bet I could get Miles to get me an internship or something and get more info for you. If you want."

He scoffed, "That would be great, thank you. I was actually just hoping you could give me a cram session on basic architecture knowledge."

"I could do that too," she shrugged.

Arthur shook his head and returned his laptop case to its place over his shoulder, "You were heading somewhere, I won't keep you."

His eyebrows rose when she guarded the door, "I was just headed to the Louvre. They opened a new wing. You could come with me and I can point out some things you should know on the way?"

"Sounds doable."

xxxxxx

Dusk fell over the city and awoke the first of the streetlamps. He looked down at her as they travelled the winding streets of her home. Half of her face shadowed and half of it illuminated by the twinkling lights flickering on in all the storefronts. She was inside her head again, somewhere she liked being. She was biting her lip and looking back and forth between the street signs, contemplating which way to go.

"Don't tell me you only know how to get to your school."

Ariadne sarcastically smiled at him, "Ha, Ha. I'm trying to think which way would have more of the types of buildings you should see."

"Any way is fine. I'm virtually a clean slate." She nodded and headed down the street to her right.

"If you don't mind my asking, why architecture?"

"I don't know; I'm not the client…" Her monotone was something new to him. She shrugged.

"No, why did _you_ choose architecture. As a major?"

"Oh." She took a deep breath and chewed her bottom lip while she thought, "Look at the city. What do you see?"

Arthur scouted his surroundings, "A lot of buildings, a lot of lights…" He seemed unamused. But doesn't he always?

"Exactly. Those buildings were designed by someone. Those are their ideas, their creations and they're solid and withstanding. And when Paris lights up at night, all of those architects' hard work and imagination…it's like they're on fire. I love the prospect that one day two people like us will be walking around and maybe glance at one of my buildings; it'll be my imagination they see light up. It's a tangible form of my thoughts out there forever whether I'm here or far away. Alive or…not alive. Every building has a piece of the person that created it…Structures have such detail and beauty behind them that people don't see." Her eyes had long ago begun to twinkle. At first, Arthur thought it was the flurry of lights casted on her but even in the shadows, they shone. "And…my reasoning seems impractical to you, doesn't it?"

"No. It's dramatic, yes, but elegant."

She rolled her eyes and pulled at her jacket sleeves to ease her embarrassment, "Yeah, well, my mom always said I overly romanticized everything."

"It's a good quality. I admire people like you…"

xxxxxx

He pointed to the top of a church, "Those would be spires, too, correct?"

"Yup. Oh!" She stopped and stared across the street at a tattered, homely looking building. "This is one of my favorite places to go."

Arthur looked at it skeptically, "Really? This….'Cafe Bonaparteite?" He was unimpressed by the building and bewildered that she even took a second glance at it. It was nothing unique to the streets of the city. "What do you find special about it?"

"When my family would visit, my Papa would always take me there. Just me and him. He would tell everyone he was taking me to the Louvre because I was the only one who didn't find it boring and we would eat here after. It looks like the typical French café, but," Her eyes were doing that twinkling thing again. The one that rivaled the stars, " it used to be an inn during the French Revolution- during Napoleon and all that. It was dilapidated until they turned it into this restaurant. Few people do…but if you know the right thing to say to the hostess they'll take you through the old hallways and rooms. Each of them is a private dining room with a private waiter and all decorated differently. Themed for a time period or person or event…my goal used to be that we'd eat in every room but I've only been in like 33 of the 210…and I haven't really been there since he died."

Maybe she hadn't realized it but Ariadne had clued him in on numerous aspects of her life through one description of the building. Her relationship with her grandfather, her interest in historical France and artistry even at a young age, her sentimentality. He'd learned a great deal more than that through the remainder of the walk: She wasn't fond of the Gothic style, too gaudy for her taste. She always forgot to round out archways on models. She adored using keystones. She's always wanted to design a concert hall.

xxxxxx

Arthur hadn't wanted to overstep his bounds. He hadn't wanted to intrude on something special between her and her departed grandfather. So he hadn't asked her to take him back to that café after their enjoyable time at the Louvre. He was surprised when she asked him but he took her up on it. He suppressed a smirk at her French banter with the hostess. It was when he walked through the hallways that he knew what she was talking about, he knew why she went on and on about this place. It was like being transported through time. The food was the most delectable French cuisine he'd had and the company wasn't half bad either. They'd returned to her flat and he'd stayed outside her door. Ariadne agreed to talk to Miles for him and in the meantime, help him with his research. It unsettled him. She wanted to be as much a part of this job as he was. His current team already had an architect and he could tell that this bothered her. She was curious about every aspect, she wanted to know every detail. Arthur could tell she missed dreamsharing with every fiber of her being and sometimes he would warn her about the dangers of that. He'd stopped bringing the PASIV in with him when they met after he'd noticed her glancing at it more than needed. Still, he couldn't stay away. So they met every couple days and ended every week with the Café Bonaparteit.

Xxxxxx

**Present Day.**

Arthur had begun pulling from all of those memories—historical events, rather—to see if Ariadne left any clue. Maybe a piece of information he'd learned about her would be key in he and Eames' search. There was no way it would help them find out what the stains on her chair were from, if they were hers, if they weren't, if she was alive or dead…but if they learned she had escaped, The Point Man would be ahead of the game in having various places they should begin looking. In all their chatter through the previous jobs, Ariadne had never mentioned a quarrel with anyone. She never seemed to have harbored resentment for anyone or mentioned anyone at school who would have a grudge. Arthur couldn't imagine anyone having a grudge on the Architect. Then again, their relationship was one of co-workers and just as he wouldn't delve such information, she would probably withhold it as well. She believed Arthur to be too worrisome anyways; she would avoid telling him anything of that sort at all costs.

Unfortunately, his brainstorming hadn't been too productive before he pulled up to her University. Arthur locked the car, slid on his sunglasses and fastened his trench coat. With his briefcase in his hand, he briskly and uniformly walked into the crime scene like he belonged there. As he passed all of the ambulances, his eyes analyzed each face for a resemblance to the architect. As much as he hoped he'd find her, he hoped he wouldn't find her on a gurney.

Through the sea of people, he was led to Eames by the sound of his distinctive British accent, incredibly arrogant stance and unique sense of dress. He wore khaki dress pants, pointy brown dress shoes, and a dark green and grey plaid, double breasted trench coat. Upon closer look, Arthur had to restrain from rolling his eyes. The forger had a pocket watch and a monocle for heaven sakes. Arthur casually strode to the Forger and patted him on the back to which the man turned, cigar in his mouth. Across from Eames stood two Parisian cops who'd obviously been won over judging from the con man's cigars in their mouths as well. "Ah! How wonderful, you're here." Eames patted Arthur's back as well. "Gentleman, this is my fashionably late partner Mr. Isaac Wayne."

"Bonjour!" They greeted the newcomer with awe. No doubt Eames had fabricated a few stories about the two of them to rival Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. That must account for his off-color outfit choice. Leave it to Eames not to take anything serious. This wasn't a play or time to pretend to be childhood characters… In a matter of seconds, the policemen pulled back the caution tape and allowed the two men into the wing where the shooting took place.

Right away the stench of dried blood hung murkily in the air.

Xxxxxxx

Pleaspleaseplease review! It makes me want to update faster :)


	3. Certainly Not

Wow! Thanks for the lovely responses! I'm glad you like it so far, I'll do my best to keep it that way. Big thank you's to: _Heimarmene, Celtic Lioness, A Dark Dreamer, Legal-Assassin-006, Nina, cinematherapy _and _snapdragon17. _All of your reviews and alerts keep me inspired mon amis.

Here we go!

**Chapter 3—Certainly Not. **

**Present Day.**

Eames got Arthur inside to investigate. Through eavesdropping and prodding they found out that the shooters were a group of six men. All managed to flee the scene. The unnerving part of that was that one of those men was posing as Ariadne's class' substitute. Amidst the anomie, Arthur and Eames had found one girl who knew Ariadne. She had been sitting next to her when it all went down. She said Ariadne had been acting fidgety through the class because the teacher kept staring at her and her bag full of designs. Everyone noticed. Especially since Professor Miles had forgotten to leave a roster and the sub called Ariadne out by name to answer a question about structures of… _hotels?_ The girl said that after that Ariadne looked shaken up. Ari grabbed her bag and stood to leave when the sub pulled a gun and shot at her. It was chaos from there and she'd lost sight of Ariadne.

That bit of information was sound. In all the interviews they conducted, how it came about was the same every time: The substitute had a fix on her, she was out of character, she stood to leave and the man shot at her. What they couldn't trust was the state Ariadne was in now. One boy said she died instantly. Another said he saw her limp up the stairs and get snatched away. A girl said she saw one of their classmates drag Ariadne's bleeding body into the hallway but there were no smeared trails that supported the idea. Another had an extravagant imagination and said he saw Ariadne do a back flip down five row of chairs, pull a gun herself and kill the sub, which couldn't possibly be right because the sub was walking around somewhere in France. One kid said the power went out but he'd been hit in the head so they concluded that was his blackout talking.

They were at a dead end. Arthur was at the point of pulling his hair out when Cobb called. "I don't know if I should be happy to hear from you or not."

"You might want to sit down." Cobb's voice wavered.

Arthur made dubious eye contact with Eames and the latter mouthed a 'what is it' in reply. Arthur shook his head at him and questioned the Extractor on the line. "Why?"

"Are you sitting?"

Arthur lied and rushed Cobb in his answer, "Yeah-yeah-yeah- what is it, Cobb? Stop beating around the bush; we've found nothing and it's—"

"Ariadne was admitted into the American Hospital of Paris just an hour ago. She's in critical condition."

The Point Man dropped into a nearby seat with his hand on his head. His eyes darted in zig-zags across the room as he tried to process the information Cobb was slowly spoon-feeding him. He whispered a harsh, "Oh shit…" and then covered his mouth with his hand. Eames sat beside him and leaned in, trying to hear what was being exchanged. After Arthur solemnly hung up, Eames pestered him to share.

She'd been shot twice in the abdomen, had a broken leg, a few broken ribs and during the panic had been pushed in front of a cab resulting in the coma she now suffered. Eames and Arthur solemnly drove to the hospital in silence. Arthur put a mask of ignorance on to appear unfazed to the forger beside him but they both knew better. The front desk sent them to a large room void of flowers or any sentiments. Large windows looked into the dark room and through them they could see a helpless architect lightly illuminated by the test screen surrounding her hospital bed. The blinds were drawn and one lone light shone in the corner from the lamp. The tv was off and she'd had no visitors. Poor Ariadne was battered, bruised, consumed by a neck brace and casts, hooked up to wire after wire and dependent on an oxygen mask.

When the boys entered the room, the sheer reality of her condition tore through them and their façades cracked. Arthur had to sit in the waiting chair by the door and pinch the bridge of his nose in attempt to compose himself. Eames shook his head and observed from afar, covering his mouth to keep himself composed as well. They gave it a moment of silence. The whole situation seemed surreal. Not too long ago, she was building and dreaming and laughing with them. This morning, she had gone to school like normal and within the matter of one class period her life had been drastically changed. How could her body be in such a state of stillness? Ariadne was restless. She always had to be moving and working on something. She was at the mercy of all of these doctors and nurses and machines and Ariadne hated needing any assistance. It wasn't fair. Ariadne was bright, cheerful, optimistic, sunny…she didn't deserve this at her age.

The Point Man couldn't stop himself from picturing the scene in his head: Ariadne innocently getting up to leave and being shot in the abdomen. He'd been shot before, he knew how it felt; she had only ever experienced it in dreams and even then very rarely. Pain was certainly in the mind but in the flesh it was much, much worse. Had she collapsed to the ground, clutching herself with a soundless scream? Had she gasped and ducked, kept trying to run through the pain? Had she lost her balance with the force and fallen backwards down those rows of chairs resulting in those broken ribs? And what of the cab? Arthur could just see the swarms of people flooding out of the building, the crowds, flailing and pushing. He could hear the screams and the chaos. The noise, the shouts, the cries, the police sirens. He could see Ariadne stumbling through the crowd, sucking in her tears, pressing her wounds, trying to be strong but searching for anyone to help, anyone at all. Then he saw a careless person bump her, her tripping into the street. He heard the honks of the oncoming traffic, saw the fear in her widened eyes. Then collision. How had she been hit? Had she been run over? Had she rolled up the hood of the car and collided with the windshield? Was she unconscious as soon as it made contact? Or did she lie in the street, suffering? Rolling around, moaning, crying…how long had it taken for someone to get to her? How long did she have to hurt like that before someone picked her up, before the ambulance came? And with no reason to feel that way, Arthur felt like he should've been there. He would've had no reason to be in Paris, there was no way he would've been there. If he had been there, he would've hunted those men and gunned them down in the hallway. He would've pulled her out of traffic's way and if he couldn't have avoided it…he would've carried her out of the street, he would've made sure she didn't hurt long. Suddenly, Arthur stood, "There's nothing in this room."

Eames wasn't sure if Arthur's sentence was incomprehensible because he himself was suffering from an inexorable amount of shock or because Arthur was insane. Most likely both. The forger let his hand fall away from his mouth, "What?"

"It's so gloomy in here…it would depress the hell out of her."

Eames chuckled despite the circumstances and ventured closer to her hospital bed. "True. If our roles were reversed, she'd want to paint our casts all pretty and drown us in balloons with cheesy lines."

Arthur allowed himself close enough to rest his hand on the foot rail of her bed. He couldn't bring himself to make contact with her actual foot as Eames had. His countenance had dropped rapidly. It would've gone unnoticed to anyone who didn't know him and to anyone who's living wasn't dependent on analyzing people. The set of his jaw was different, one of the layers that kept his eyes shielded had peeled away and he looked at her like a human, with warmth. The Forger like seeing that side of Arthur. The one that made it plausible to believe the Point Man was indeed created like the rest of the beings on Earth. After 8 years of working together, he'd only begun seeing it during the Fischer job. That was no coincidence, Eames thought. "She's a firecracker," the aformentioned declared patting her foot lovingly, "She'll wake up."

Arthur nodded, "She'll never wake up with her room looking like this, let's go."  
xxxxxx

"They're not bright enough."

"Arthur, they look like highlighters. If I stare too long I'll go blind." For emphasis, the bulkier of the two men donned his sunshades. The florist hovered over them, ready for them to make their decision. Eames quipped, "It's ok, really, I want to spend _another _hour in here." The Point Man ignored him and picked up a rose to smell. "Oh, of course. Shall we mull over every plant in the store again?" Eames checked his watch even though they had nowhere specific they had to be today. A bouquet of Peonies, Carnations and Baby's Breath caught his eye. "How about these, Artie? They're lovely."

"Yes…"Arthur gave them a once over, picked up the bouquet, then sighed and lowered it back down. He wandered to the next cooler door and pointed at the glass. "She's more of a wildflower type person, though, don't you think?"

Eames gave the poor florist an apologetic look and threw his hands in the air at Arthur, "Honestly, any flowers will do. She loves nature. " There was a neat and simple bouquet of Sunflowers, Gerber Daises and Baby's Breath that Eames seemed quite taken by. It had a neat hot pink ribbon tied around it and was the essence of Ariadne in his mind: Colorful. "Well I am quite taken by these. Wrap them up please, put a ' Miss Your Smile from Dear Old Eames' on it as well."

The other florist hopped to work to help out Eames while Arthur gravitated to the roses again. Arthur pulled out several hundred dollar bills and gave them to the florist, "I want them all."

"All of the yellow roses, sir?" he replied in broken English.

"No." He said this to the florist like he was the dumbest of creatures, "All of the flowers in the coolers."

Eames gaped from the counter, "Arthur."

"All yellow ribbon. I want them sent to The American Hospital of Paris, Room 491. I want every card to say 'Get Well Soon, Ariadne. From Arthur.'"

"And Eames, Damnit! That's not fair!" the other man protested.  
xxxxxx

Half an hour later and hospital room 491 resembled an outlet mall of florists. Bouquets of sunflowers, every color of roses, daisies, violets, tulips, lilies, carnations, peonies, hydrangeas all adorned the once bleak room. The Point Man stood in the doorway. Somehow, with the curtains open and the array of bright colors, it still felt like there was no sunlight with the Architect's eyes closed.

"Arthur, is there anything we should talk about?" Eames sipped the cup of coffee he insisted on getting before they returned to her privet room. (Hey, he'd been patient and dealt with Arthur's crazy shopping spree. He deserved caffeine and God help him if he didn't get it.)

"No?" The Point Man was judging the state of one of the vases of sunflowers. A couple were a bit wilted. Unacceptable. He paid good money for these flowers. They needed to last until she woke up, he'd bought them for her to enjoy.

"You used that Architect job as an excuse to see her, didn't you?"

He paused and avoided Eames' eyes, "No. I don't have any use for excuses. I needed help and she could offer it." Then he resumed criticizing the remainder of the flower arrangement.

"You did." Eames' voice was like he'd uncovered the greatest secret in the world but then it changed to weariness, "You promised Cobb and Miles you wouldn't…Shithole, now you've gone and gotten attached! Wow…_The _Arthur No-"

Arthur glared at Eames, "I have not."

"So you have compulsive shopping sprees all the time?—Oh wait, I'm talking to King of Italian shoes and Designer suits…you're like woman."

The Point Man rolled his eyes, "Really, Eames…"

"You bought her an _entire _flower shop…and she's unconscious! What would you buy her if she was conscious and looking at you with those brown puppy dog eyes? You would've bought her the entire bloody franchise."

Arthur slouched into the waiting chair set in the only empty space in the room. "It's just too difficult to see Ariadne like this. I thought—perhaps if her room were happier, more like her, she'd have more of a desire to wake up. Like a—subconscious thing…You know, Miles is worried sick."

"Yeah. _Miles_ has lost his marbles. _Miles _is quite beside himself…" Eames was braver than Arthur, he crossed the room to get a better look at her. The closest they'd been was her feet. "She's different..." His words surprised Arthur. The Point Man met Eames' eyes with a glare. Eames continued, "This girl in a coma…. all battered and bruised…this isn't the woman we know."

Arthur crossed to where Eames was standing prepared to defend her. Being a victim and irreparably injured doesn't make her any less Ariadne than she was before. Then he looked closer. At the woman's full lips, the short eyelashes, the pointy nose, the red highlights…wrong, wrong, everything wrong. He looked to the name on her bed: 'Ariadne Bourgeois.' He looked to the woman and he looked at Eames filled with confusion. Neither knew whether to feel relieved or increase their worry. Arthur voiced it first, "Who is that?"

"It's certainly not Ariadne."  
xxxxxx

I'm detecting that something's not right…thoughts? Reviews make the world go round.


	4. Vanilla and Strawberries

Holy crap! How can I resist consistently updating when my reviewers and alerters are so wonderful and INSPIRING? I can't. Big bear hug thank you's to: _Legal-Assassin-006, snapdragon17, A Dark Dreamer, cinematherapy, ValeriaAnne, kks99, SPC Airen _and _CelticLioness._

**Chapter 4- Vanilla and Strawberries**

A nice nurse came in to change the imposter's IV bag. When he did the two visitors attacked him with the aura of vultures had some questions for him. Arthur shifted his attention away from the stranger in front of him and towards the new addition to the party, "Are you aware of the person that checked this patient into the hospital?" all too eager for answers.

A bit taken aback, the figure blinked and nimbly moved to 'Ariadne's' side, "One of her friends I assumed. The one who sat in here as Ariadne was hooked up and defibrillated." He said as he skillfully and quickly wrapped the blood pressure monitor around the girl's upper arm.

Eames flashed his fake investigator badge with a flourish, "Is there anything you can tell us about this friend of hers?"

They could tell the nurse became nervous the second Eames pulled out his id. The nurse—Marius, as his name tag stated—straightened and tried to appear less lackadaisical about his job than in the minutes prior. "I wasn't the one in here when she was submitted- I pulled this shift about an hour ago. You'll want to speak with Dr. Piedmonte. He made the decisions about her medical needs and went over them with the patient's friend."

Eames licked his lips and tapped his index finger on his chin, giving Marius the most suspicious, judgmental look he could forge and murmured, "Mhm…" just to scare the poor boy. He really couldn't have been much older than the actual Ariadne herself. "And would you like to fetch Dr. Piedmonte for us to question," He peered at the nurse's badge so closely, his breath bounced off the plastic and ran back to him. "Martin?" He could read, he knew the boy's real name but again Eames was always one for character.

"Marius, Monsieur."

Eames sniffed, folded his arms across his chest and looked at the boy expectantly.

"Right away, Monsieur."  
xxxxxx

"It was a woman." The Doctor shrugged and propped his leg up on the waiting chair's cushion. "Your height." He gestured to the Forger, "Blonde. Her hair was in a bun. She looked very put together, very corporate. "

_Corporate._ That was never a settling word when dealing with missing architects and shootings. They were stumped again. The one thing they were sure of was that Ariadne, wherever she be, was wanted. She was the cause of the shooting. A shooting that only occurred in the only two wings of the school she frequented. A shooting headed by the man posing as _her _substitute teacher. There were three solutions. One: Ariadne was shot. Killed. Dumped somewhere. Two: Ariadne was shot. Injured. Running from her pursuers. Three: Ariadne was shot. Captured. Being tortured this second. None sounded hopeful. What they couldn't wrap their heads around was why someone would admit the wrong girl into a hospital under Ariadne's name. Actually they could. They knew that someone would come for Ariadne and were using this as a distraction, this girl was a decoy to buy these people time to either find Ariadne or get farther away from Paris with Ariadne in their possession.

Arthur re-buttoned his jacket and joined the Forger and the Doctor, leaving the window that looked out into the nurses' station of the floor. He'd been picking apart every person that came into his view, looking for—he didn't even know. He made note of random, unimportant things…a coffee cup had been left on the desk, there was a shoe scuff marking the smooth crème flooring, they had an hp photosmart printer, one of the nurses was left handed…it was a welcomed respite to leave the distractions and enter the conversation, "Did the blonde have any personal injuries?"

"None."

Another heave. No bodily injuries herself, her appearance clean and spotless…this woman couldn't have been at the scene. There was no way she could have avoided secondhand bloodstains, dirt, scrapes or injury had she been in the same chaos Ariadne suffered from. They would do more research on this blonde mystery later. At the moment, they're best bet was to identify the girl used as a decoy. If there was any way she was closely linked to Ariadne, the blonde or the substitute it would be useful information. Any information Arthur could gather was useful—one would be amazed at the conclusions he could pull out of nothing—he just needed to strike the right chord. They thanked the doctor and excused themselves from the room but not before taking a photo of the decoy. Their next destination was Miles' residence to see if there were any dots he could aid in connecting.  
xxxxxx

"Yes, that is Carla Rossi. She sits…I would say behind Ariadne. Normally more back and to the left of her."

Eames nodded. Arthur eyes stared downcast into the space in front of him. He was mentally building the auditorium, placing the rows, filling the seats. Eames offered, "But they look nothing alike, why would someone use _her_? Was she close with Ariadne?"

Miles had to wipe his nose with his pleated hanky and sniffle the sickness back before he could reply, "Not by normal standards. I assigned them on a few projects together…I guess Ariadne was closer to her than most but that seems an odd reason."

"It was most likely their proximity. They probably just grabbed the physically closest girl they could find…" Arthur spoke up and crossed the room with his hand in his pockets, "That means her attackers were in a rush. They had no time to pick someone to look like her. The story about Carla's injuries was most likely fabricated. The shooters roughed her up that way it would be hard to recognize who it really was and everyone would assume—with the name labeled above the bed—it would be Ariadne. Either way—whether they have Ariadne in their possession or not—they knew someone would come looking for her and they wanted to make sure they were thrown off. "

"Well it worked. We wasted nearly a whole day." Eames bitterly announced, annoyed with himself.

Arthur corrected, _"Nearly_."

Miles laughed halfway into a coughing fit and then had to clear his throat before he spoke, "Obviously, whoever they are, they're either complete idiots or they have no idea _exactly _who they're up against: The Notorious Mr. Arthur and Cheeky Eames."

Eames stood and whined, "He gets _notorious _and I get _cheeky_?"

Miles stared back at Eames with one eyebrow raised an unimpressed 'and?' look. Did Ariadne learn that facial from the Professor? Because, _damn_, it was like he was engaging with an older, wrinklier, obviously male and undoubtedly less pretty version of the little Architect they were searching for. Did he mention _undoubtedly less pretty? _"Well, since I've been pegged as the cheeky—dashingly handsome and robust—sidekick. What's our next task, Artie?" Arthur and Eames agreed to take a visit to her flat for any clues that might wheedle themselves into focus.

"Call me the moment you uncover anything." Miles called and Eames trotted down the steps of Mile's home and to the rental car with a strange vigor and readiness. Arthur was the last out and at the top of the stairs, Miles pulled Arthur around by his shoulder and addressed him privately, "I have no doubt you'll find her. You're you. It's only a matter of time." He waited for Arthur to nod before he continued, "You take good care of her, Arthur."

"I will, Sir. Rest assured."

Then Miles gripped his shoulder with the tightness of a boa constrictor and leaned in closer still. His breath bared the trumpets of warning, "Don't get too carried away." He registered the tilt of Arthur's head and the narrowing of his eyes as confusion. "She _is _a lovely little thing. Mind sharp as a tack, charming, witty—all those who know her describe her as thrilling. She has a draw to men that's unexplainable and she's oblivious to it which makes her all the more adorable. But in all of those qualities, harbors the makings of a Mal." Arthur's head retreated back and his eyebrows creased but Miles wasn't done, "And in you, Arthur, I can see the beginnings of a Dom Cobb."

Arthur's took steps back from Miles, "No, sir. You don't—Ariadne and I, we don't- We aren't together."

Miles straightened and pulled his robe closer as the chill Parisian air gusted through. He combed his fingers through the scruff on his chin that he'd attained from being sick and lazy. His face resorted to look of finality and hesitant acceptance. "Yes, well it's only a matter of time, isn't it?" Thankfully, he gave Arthur one final small smile before he closed his door. Stunned, Arthur tried to brush off the comment and head to the car. What would the Professor know? He was rarely in the presence of Arthur and Ariadne when they were together.

Except creeping in the back of his mind was: If he was rarely around to witness there interaction and came to that conclusion…the others…*ahem* The others knew better.

xxxxxx

It was silly to hope that everything was a misunderstanding and Ariadne was still at home in her flat having accidentally slept through her alarm. Eames didn't know why he knocked and called to her through the door; the door was cracked. They busted the door open to find her flat looking like a tornado hit it. Tables turned over, lamps broken, clothes and ripped papers and books scattered through. It looked thoroughly ransacked; Arthur couldn't help but feel the Architect had been violated. Not literally but in a symbolic sense, someone had been through all of her things. Destroyed them. Someone else was looking for her: It was a good sign and a bad sign. She wasn't caught but she was being chased. Her attackers must've hit her flat first, did some digging and realized she was at her school. What better place to corner her? There was a stale smell of iron in the apartment that slowly but surely wafted into their nostrils like smoke would. Eames' eyes flitted lightly over their surroundings for the source, then pointed out a trail of blood droplets leading from the door to the kitchenette's sink. So she had been here _after _the shooting. Maybe her attackers hadn't come here first, they followed her here after and she put up a struggle. Maybe she _was _caught.

The boys followed the red droplets like bread crumbs…like footprints in the sand. But they stopped at the kitchen sink and never trailed from there. Arthur set to work, analyzing the room from molding to baseboard. She had a couple dirty dishes waiting for attention in the sink and bowl with watered down milk pooling at the bottom mixed with remnants of cereal. Judging from the state of the milk and the sogginess but not decay of the grains, he could confirm that that was her breakfast this morning. Her countertops were clean apart from the odd book page and torn debris from the rampage. Then he noticed that the towel ring was askew. It pointed upward as if it'd been moved and never swung back into place. Together with a missing towel he concluded that she'd compressed the blood flow as best she could and that explained the abrupt stop in the trail. They searched the room some more. The doors to her laundry closet were hanging off the hinge, limply and pathetically. Eames took it upon himself and dumped her clothes hamper. "Arthur." Arthur walked over and picked through the pile while Eames walked into another room. Bingo. A bloodstained shirt and crumpled, soaked cardigan were hidden in the pile. She'd definitely been here. The wetness of the fabric was fresh and moist…the smell of crimson was unforgiving with its message.

Eames called out to Arthur from her bathroom, "Arthur, something strikes me funny."

"What?" Arthur yelled back. He grazed his fingers over her shirt but couldn't bring himself to touch the part of the fabric drenched in blood. He folded the garment in on itself so that he could hold the dryer edges. With a glance, towards the direction Eames disappeared to first, Arthur brought it closer to his face. He could still make out her natural scent of vanilla and strawberries. He crumpled the item of clothing and held it down in one hand—almost angered—vanilla and strawberries were never meant to mix with metallic salt. "Arthur!" Eames insisted he join him again.

He followed Eames' voice through her bedroom. He'd never been in there before. It seemed less personal and sacred in the state in was in at the moment. Her sheets were strewn on the floor, her headboard broken, her mattress halfway off of the bed creating the semblance of a slide. The drawers of her dresser were in various stages of opened. Some barely cracked, some hanging by a thread, some overturned on the ground. Her mirror was smashed into pieces. The eeriness had held his attention until Eames' voice in her bathroom brought him out of his haze and guided him to his destination.

"If someone was hunting her, found her here and dragged her out—presumably kicking, screaming, scratching and spitting out those sarcastically witty insults of hers that only further infuriate people—to hide her away somewhere…I don't think they'd be concerned about her personal hygiene."

Arthur surveyed the room as he had the other. Subconsciously his eyes wandered passed her open shower curtain—Yellow and White striped—and onto the built in shelf. Vanilla Green Tea body wash and Strawberry Fresh Garnier Fructis shampoo and conditioner… so that's the secret to her intoxicating aroma."Wha-?"

"No toothbrush or paste, no brush…and her scarf rack is conveniently missing all but those few there on the floor: She's on the run, Arthur. They don't have her yet…I should become a Point Man, don't you think? Seems I've done all the _real_ investigating since we got here. You've just been crying into her bloodstained shirt and buying fields of flowers for random girls."

Unimpressed with Eames' humor, Arthur threw her shirt in Eames' face and headed out the door to plan their next move. Eames gagged at the unwelcomed dirtied clothing and followed Arthur.  
xxxxxx

Ariadne had been sprinting down the back alleyways of Paris for who knows how long. Someone wanted her and she was highly aware of it. A brief thought of hailing a cab and telling the driver to drive until he was out of gas crossed her mind. Whoever was tracking her…their first thought would be that she would pounce on the next flight leaving Paris. Airports would be swarmed with her pursuers. She'd have to find another way to hightail it out of the city. But first, she needed to withdraw some money—how the hell would she do that without leaving a paper trail?- She needed to destroy this SIM card in her cell phone and she needed to find a bandage for this gunshot wound. Ariadne panted heavily and continued on her way, making her way up as she went along. What could she do?  
xxxxxx

The sounds of the Blonde's two inch heels hitting the ground with each step made the loudest of noises. She huffed-this was a time to be inconspicuous. If she didn't pull this off, her head would be on a platter. Her phone started to beep. _Finally._ The beautiful, suited woman answered, "Yes?"

On the other side was an accent of Asian nature, "We would like to inform you that your favor has been considered and approved…with the understanding that you'll honor your end of the agreement."

"Yes," Her voice was confident, sharp, "I've decided to accept the additional business venture once this is all over." Anything for help in completing her task at hand…

"The boss will be delighted to hear that. You will report to the Villefranche-de-Rouerge Airport. Access code 528-491-23-42. The security will be expecting you."

The woman nodded, straightened her suit jacket and adjusted the position of a bobby pin in her bun as she walked, "Perfect. Give Saito my thanks."

"Mr. Saito always protects his future interests. Sayonara."

"Ja, shitsurei shimasu." The blonde smiled and swiped the screen of her phone. This should be cake.  
xxxxxx

On the other side of the city, the other two people searching for the Architect were striking up their game plan. They would stay in the city the remainder of the day and night and scour the web for any trace of Ariadne's whereabouts. Eames had called and given Cobb an update on the information they'd gathered. Miles had asked Christian de Pomperzac to substitute for him that morning. So after tracking de Pomperzac down, Arthur paid him a visit. Turns out he did not match the description of the shooter. He claimed to have been called by the department's head an hour prior to Ariadne's class and was told his services weren't needed. Arthur and Eames then called on the Head of the Architecture and Engineering. They managed to coax him into sharing his phone records and sure enough, he hadn't called de Pomperzac or anyone since he'd been on the phone with Miles that morning.

This could only mean that the gang of shooters had intervened. Arthur tracked the number that had called de Pomperzac and found that the line had been disconnected. It was a pre-paid phone most likely bought with cash. This meant that the shooters must have pre-planned the shooting. That they had a motive and judging from her classmate's recollections of the scene, their sights had been trained on Ariadne from the start. Everything screamed of an attempted assassination.

Now, who would be after _her _of all people? The options were people she worked for or marks that could remember… Fischer-Browning, Mankens, Puckett, Doyle and Co., Cliff Whiting, Parks and Son, Andrew Wellington and…well that was it. It couldn't be Puckett because she wasn't even technically involved in that job. Arthur went to her for help and he was the only one aware of her input, he made sure of it. It wouldn't be Parks and Son or Mankens or even Whiting because they were over the moon with her work and all wanted to sign her on permanently. They have her on file for future jobs…What was baffling was that she was an architect and architects rarely were the objects of revenge in the business (excepting Nash). Architects were only ever hunted down if their actions were the sole reason the job was unsuccessful. In Ariadne's case? That was never the outcome. If something went wrong, it wasn't her designs; the dreamer never realized he was dreaming because her surroundings weren't immaculate. She was exceptional…and well that could be a reason someone wanted her, right? Her reputation was rising and she was certainly putting other dream Architects out of business…they would be people who'd want her decimated. So Arthur's list of the people who wanted Ariadne dead, incapacitated or just out of sight narrowed down to the entire dream-sharing world.

Since his list of possible pursuers was only growing, he turned to what he did best. Finding people he already knew and he knew quite a lot about Ariadne.  
xxxxxx

Ehh? So we got to see a clipping of what Ariadne's doing at the moment…and we're starting to see the POV of some of the people hunting her down. And what? Is Saito connected with the people who tried to kill Ari? Should we find out more about that next chappie? Thoughts Thoughts Thoughts my loves!

P.S. Arthur.


	5. Low and Behold

AH! Thank you so much to: _Legal-Assassin-006, Celtic (Angry?)Lioness, Nina.4444, Elvenya, Guest, BailorWilkes, _and _WorriesAreForSquares! _

**Chapter 5- Low and Behold**

No trace of Ariadne. How could that be? She hadn't made a phone call, she hadn't emailed, used her credit card, anything…and as frustrating and worrisome as it was, Arthur was proud. She knew people were following her and she was using the tips he had given her once. That or she was already captured and her pursuers were leading him on a merry chase just so he wouldn't find her in time to be of any help (but he wouldn't think about that right now). It was a game of sitting and waiting for anything corresponding to her to pop up on his screen. He thought he might make a brief visit to her grandmother's posing as her boyfriend (that part was Eames' idea) just to see if she'd checked in with her and let _her _know she was alright. I mean of course her grandmother knew of the shootings at Ariadne's university. It was all over the news, she would be just as worried and Ariadne hated upsetting the people she cared about. Ariadne would've known that visiting her grandmother would only endanger her…but she would be smart enough to tell her grandmother not to answer any man in a suit about anything. It was doubtful that Ariadne would take such a risk but it was worth a shot. (Which is why Eames' idea started to seem more plausible as their drive to her grandmother's in Cannes wore on.)

When they arrived and her grandmother opened the door with her rifle, they could tell she was on guard. Like a watch dog in the night. Arthur assumed that if they met her under any other circumstance, she would've seemed charming and endearing. But the way she threatened them with a leathery sneer on her face instead of a warm grin he was sure she owned made her seem far more formidable. "Bonjour, Ms. Bourgeois. I'm Ariadne's boyfriend." Arthur said slowly, loudly and clearly so she could understand.

The old woman scrunched her face and turned her head. Arthur almost thought she hadn't comprehended his sentence and was fixing to repeat it in French when she answered, "Ariadne's boyfriend has already been by and he's warned me about you people." She shook the rifle in Arthur's face and pointed it at Eames so that it poked his chest menacingly.

Shit. Someone else had been here before them and her grandmother had fallen for their schemes. Putting on his best 'flattering an old woman so she won't hurt you face,' Eames intervened politely (didn't know that was possible), "Ms. Bourgeois, that wasn't Ariadne's boyfriend."

"You get off my property, gamin." She pulled the hammer back and the men slowly raised their hands so she could see they were empty of weapons

"Look, je veux dire aucun mal…" (I mean no harm)…"My name is Arthur…surely Ari has mentioned me to you?"

The weathered, older version of the Architect gripped the rifle tighter and a wisp of her greyish curls fell into her face, "Arthur, a deja ete ici, vous couche batard." (Arthur has already been here, you lying bastard.)

Someone knew about his friendship with her…someone was using his name and his face to juice information out of her relatives…keeping his calm, he looked at Eames and then back at the woman and quoted, " 'Et ma partie preferee au sujet du musee du Louvre avec mon Papa est de savoir comment il me laissait le fond de son cornet de crème glacee sur notre chemin du retour. A chaque fois.' " ( And my favorite part about the Louvre with my Papa is how he'd let me have the bottom of his ice cream cone on our way home. Everytime.) It was information Ariadne had divulged to him that she wouldn't divulge to just anyone and it wasn't something about her you could pull up on the internet to memorize and repeat. Her grandmother was painstakingly aware of how special the relationship with her Papa was to Ariadne (she was witness to their bond, after all) and since his death she never spoke of him but to a special few. And by special, she meant _special_.

The old woman clicked the safety back on the rifle and stepped back to shoo the boys inside. The intimidating pug face she'd held for so long disappeared behind gradually warming eyes and a maternal upturn of her lips. "Well, it's a good thing I didn't have any information to give the man posing as you…I'm just upset I let him in my house. I had a feeling he didn't really care for her like the Arthur she'd described."

"Ms. Bourgeois, please, I need to know if Ariadne has been here. I just need to know if she's alright…If she needs help, I won't stop until she gets it but I need to know where she went."

"Je suis desole, boy, I don't know." She rested her ginormous (compared to her familiar petite frame) weapon against a recliner and wringed her hands on her apron.

He sighed and Eames stepped forward, "Can you at least tell us if she was here. A simple nod or shake of the head would suffice."

Ariadne's grandmother nodded grimly, her eyes had begun to water when she remembered the condition her granddaughter had been in and all the questions her Petite Gateau wouldn't answer as she looked for a first aid kit to lend her.  
xxxxxx

_The knocking was urgent. It hadn't stopped since it started and echoed incessantly as Maman hurried across the house to answer it. She pulled back the cherry wood door and grasped her chest the moment she laid her eyes on her granddaughter. _

"_Ariadne, ma Cherie, entrez! Depecher!"_

_She pulled her granddaughter in and sat her down in the nearest chair. The Architect's face was paler than her usual color, a grimace took permanent residence on her face and one of her arms was clutching her side. Her t-shirt and makeshift bandage had been soaked through and stained vermilion. Ariadne did her best to hold in the tiny whimpers that tried to escape on occasion. Her grandmother took her round face in her hands, much like she used to when Ariadne was younger—with more freckles, missing front teeth and curly pigtails—and she wanted her undivided attention. "I saw the news. I am so glad you're here, Petite Gateau." She kissed her forehead greedily then worried over her, started to pull her shirt up to see her wound. "How are you hurt? Let me hel—"_

"_Maman—no." She pulled her shirt back down. "I don't want you to see it."_

"_Ariadne." She reprimanded and yanked the corner of her shirt anyway, the makeshift bandage was so wet it had practically fallen apart and off of her with a tug. A small chunk was taken out of her side. The blood around the initial hole had clotted and looked dark purple and crusted. With pressure or Ariadne folding over her side, fresh blood seeped out the miniscule pores that were still clotting. There were bright red and yellowish lines of blood dried down her side; you could see the exact spot each droplet stopped rolling and decided to harden. "Mon Dieu, Ariadne!" Her grandmother's palm clasped over her mouth. She started shaking._

"_It's looks worse than it is, I promise. The bullet just grazed me."_

_When Ariadne had said her last statement, her Maman closed her eyes and took a deep intake of breath. Her little Ari. Her sweet, innocent, forgiving, wonderful Ari had been shot. By a real gun with a real bullet. "You need a Doctor."_

"_I can't go to one. Can I have your first aid kit?" Her grandmother stared at her in disbelief. What did she mean she couldn't go to one? "Maman! The kit? Do you have one?"  
xxxxxx_

"_I_s she ok?" Arthur jumped and called for her in the house, "Ariadne?"

"She's not here anymore…She's _hurt_, monsieur_._"

Eames accidentally let a cuss slip, "Shit." Then he realized what he'd said in front of the lady and-, "Oh shit, I'm sorry." Damn, he'd said it again! "Shit! Er-Can you tell us how bad she's hurt?"

"She wouldn't show me. After she told me not to answer any suits, she _did_ mention _you_, Arthur."  
xxxxxx

"_But why—"_

"_I told you, Maman, its safer for you not to know." Ariadne watched as her grandmother dug through the cabinets in her bathroom, pulled out boxes and shifted through them. "There are men looking for me and they may come here. If anyone asks about me, skirt around it. I was never here. You haven't heard from me."_

_Maman found the small tin first aid kit and surrendered it to Ariadne's keeping. She gave her an unsure, disapproving look, "What have you gotten yourself into?"_

_Ariadne just swallowed and shifted weight between her feet. With the bite of the inside of her cheek, she made haste getting back in the fugitive rhythm of things. "I'll have to re-bandage this once I'm mobile. Thank you, Maman, Je t'aime." _

_The old woman couldn't keep up with the younger woman's logic, her swift way of thinking, her urgency, her pace to the door. "Be careful, petite Bebe," she reached the door as Ariadne was racing down the front steps, backpack in tow. _

_As an afterthought, Ariadne turned around and mentioned, "Remember the friend from work I told you about?"_

"_Yes…? The Arthur?"_

_Ariadne nodded, "He may come looking for me…he may not. But if he does, you can only tell him that I'm alive, ok? Absolutely nothing else, I don't want him trying to get involved in this either. Oh, and get Papa's rifle."_

_Maman regretfully nodded and watched Ariadne trek away before she shut herself inside, found the rifle and locked the doors.  
xxxxxx_

Eames rubbed his hand over his face at how stubborn all the Bourgeois' could be and Arthur replied exasperatedly, "Madame, Ariadne's safety, her life is as stake. If you know where she went, you _have _to tell me."

"She would not say, Monsieur. Je suis desole."  
xxxxxx

Ariadne was safe for now. In the back of the cab, (the cab driver hadn't pulled out a gun on her yet so _so far _she trusted him) she was well on her way out of the city. She pulled the gauze, antiseptic and bandages out of her backpack to dress the wound on her stomach. She'd been lucky (using the term loosely). The bullet sent her way had only grazed her side. It was half an inch deep…but still, she hadn't bled to death yet and call Ariadne anything but pessimistic. The cabby turned to ask how much further and she replied curtly, "I told you. Another city over…"

He replied in broken English with, "I certainly hope you have enough to pay for the fare."

Ariadne threw a few fifties into the empty passenger seat and said, "Drive thirty more minutes and we should be there. Get off at whatever exit is nearby the airport. Or you could drop me off here and I could pay another cabby all the money I was planning to give you…"

The money shut him up and he was back to his ever obliging attitude she discovered he would adopt every time she overpaid him. At first, he was adamant he would not leave the city of Paris and now he was practically her personal chauffer. With that settled, she lifted the bottom of her shirt and untied the ripped flannel shirt her Maman gave her to tie around her waist. With the slack in the fabric, the bloodied toilet paper she had used at makeshift gauze fell into the floorboard. Ariadne hissed at the sting the alcohol made when dripped over her skin and the antiseptic had to be rubbed in. The cabby (he must be taking a liking to her) was concerned and asked if she was ok and what had happened. The Architect strictly reminded him of the hundred dollar tip she'd paid for no questions and no eyes in the rearview mirror. She quickly set back to dressing the wound, the soft clean gauze felt loads better than the toilet paper had and she wrapped a real bandage around her waist before letting her shirt down, tucking and fixing it so it would look normal and shrugging her jacket on to cover any bleeding that might've shown through her shirt's side. Ariadne repacked her first aid materials and cleaned up her used trash. Freshly bandaged and scouting her mind for a next move, Ariadne sat back and watched the country roll by as she waited for the thirty minutes to be up.  
xxxxxx

Evelyn stepped on to the plane clad in her new flight attendants uniform. It was waiting for her by Saito's request at the airport and she'd happily changed into it. It was a dark navy blue pencil skirt that hit just above her knee, a white ruffled blouse and a fitted suit jacket complete with a new pair of heels and a neckerchief like attendants donned in the fifties. One would be fibbing if they said her legs didn't look fabulous in the pencil skirt and her blonde bun didn't look sophisticated as hell. She strutted in and introduced herself to the crew, smiling, batting her eyelashes and playing the part of overly excited, first day attendant. Thankfully, Mr. Saito had chosen a crew that hadn't worked with the real Evelyn before so they were gullible to her half-ass backstory and charming figure. The pilot flirted (naturally) while he boasted about his appreciation for clouds and how many flights he'd successfully flown. She had to keep from rolling her eyes because…really? If one hadn't been successful, he'd be dead wouldn't he? The other attendants hugged and chatted until the passengers had boarded and the plane rode down to the tarmac. She was assigned to the first class cabin. She wasn't too thrilled about that. Before they took flight, Evelyn scouted the seats and the people in them with scrutiny. She wasn't exactly sure who she was looking for, so she took note of whoever fit the description. When they were off the ground (twenty minutes behind schedule…) she played the part gracefully. She paraded around with the cart and asked people for drinks or snacks. The plane landed and she had an hour to grab lunch and head back to the plane for the flight back into France. She decided she'd work the next run so she could monitor the next crop of people leaving Paris…and where they happened to go…  
xxxxxx  
It took two days before she showed up on Arthur's laptop screen. Ariadne was in Australia and had just purchased two tickets to Spain. One for herself and one for…Persephone Bourgeois? Surely not Ariadne's mother, her name was Helen and the second ticket was for a minor. Did Ariadne have a younger sister or cousin that she hadn't told Arthur about? And why would she all of a sudden show up with her? It hadn't shown up in his reconnaissance of the Architect from Inception. He was only aware of her older brother and sister, Ganymede and Hera. Maybe a stepsister? And why would she all of a sudden use her credit card and put herself on the map like that? It smelled of a trap. There were two options: One, someone had obtained her credit and were planting decoy after decoy for Arthur and Eames to stumble over. Two, someone had her and was trying to get out of Australia with her. Whoever Persephone was, was listed as a minor. So an id wouldn't be required for her to get through. Ariadne's id was all anyone needed. Perhaps—and Arthur was just spit balling here—the same woman who'd checked the imposter into the hospital had caught up with their Architect. She was trying to pass for Ariadne and get Ariadne in under the radar by passing her off as whoever this "Persephone" was. Ariadne could pass for a minor if they made her up to look like one, she naturally looked young for her age anyway…With that as the theory they decided to go with, Eames checked in with Cobb and Miles while Arthur tore the internet apart and booked them on the next flight to Sydney.  
xxxxxx

Maybe an airport _was _in her best interest. It was sort of necessary for her to get out of France anyway and so she did. She was only in Australia briefly because she was sure that with a credit card purchase, Australia would be surrounded with vultures before the hour was up and she didn't intend on being there when the party started. It's not like she had a choice, though. Her cash was almost out and she needed to save it for another flight or whatever emergency she'd need it for. A hotel was out of the question because Ariadne wasn't staying here long. She gaited through the large airport determined to find an atm. She'd already made a purchase here so Australia was on the map. She might as well go ahead and draw money out here so her future tracks would be invisible again. The hundred and fifty and twenty dollar bills shot out of the machine and into her hands which then shoved the money into her backpack. Out of the corner of the Architect's eye…she sees a blonde in a suit and the panicky feeling in her stomach-mixed with the feeling that someone was after her and had their eyes on her- gave her her next move.  
xxxxxx

And her name popped up again, flashing on his laptop. Arthur opens the alert and there she is. Not literally but her paper trail was a relief. It wasn't any more information than he previously had but the fact that she'd drawn cash meant that she was fixing to go invisible yet again. Ariadne was preparing to drop from his radar and he'd be damned if that happened. He and Eames were waiting to board their plane to Spain which luckily left 3 hours before hers would and arriving in the same airport nearly an hour and a half earlier. Arthur would be waiting for her. He was more than ready to sweep her away and destroy whoever was after her.

The plane ride was long to say the least. Had Eames been sitting by the curvaceous ginger two rows up or getting a little touchy feely with the leggy brunette flight attendant-that he was sure was making eyes at him as _all _women do—then the flight would've been entertaining. However, his dashing self was stuck next to the ever anxious Point Man who he was sure was counting down the seconds until they landed. Worry wart. What Arthur needed was a shot—mmm, make it bottle—of vodka and he'd be merry as a clam. Like Eames. Who only got handsomer, the more drunk he got. The stick in the mud, however, drew the line at Eames' second drink. That made him cranky so he resorted to checking out the old woman—fifty something was not _too _old, eh? The short skirt complimented her—sitting across the aisle, winking at any woman he could catch the attention of and elbowing Arthur every couple minutes just to annoy him…No one else but maybe Cobb would've picked it up (well maybe Ariadne…damn she was perceptive) because well Cobb had known him forever and Eames was trained to find people's quirks and analyze behavior. Eames could see the impatient tap of Arthur's index finger on his laptop. He didn't know why the Point Man continued to pry the web when he'd had any and all links to her names and aliases alerted. And bloody hell if he made Eames recall the exact state of her apartment and relay the entire conversation with Ariadne's Maman again he was going to jump out the exit door. He did however get a huge kick out of snooping through Arthur's files while the Point Man had excused himself to the bathroom. He hacked through and found a file dedicated to candids of the Architect, sure they were in his 'Fischer Browning-Reconnaissance-Team-Architect-Ariadne Grace Bourgeois' folder so they were used for his research before they hired her on for Inception but Eames entertained himself with the idea that Arthur frequented that folder for…other reasons.  
xxxxxx

Evelyn was onto something. She spotted a girl who looked uncannily like The Architect. Short, brunette, cardigan…she seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with another woman. It was perfect. Absolute perfect timing. She picked out the words "Canceled?" "Not possible." "I'm screwed." And realized that this was indeed the perfect opportunity to pounce.  
xxxxxx

They landed in Spain. Eames sat at one gate waiting on an arrival from Australia and Arthur sat at the other. Their hour and a half of time passed and Ariadne had not appeared. They found the next flights awaiting arrival from Australia…no trace of Ariadne. Arthur rechecked the file he'd saved on her ticket information to make sure they were in the correct airport and sure enough they were. Another hour passed and another hour passed and soon the stars were coming out in Barcelona, Spain and the two men were pacing back and forth through the gates. They spent the night in the Barcelona airport and by morning there was still no sign that the Architect had graced the city. At a dead end and not knowing what else to do, they camped out at the airport and waited for an alert. Any alert.

Bing.  
_Gregory Connors has landed in Madrid, Spain from departure city Sydney, Australia.  
Patrick Leary has landed in Madrid, Spain from departure city Sydney, Australia.  
Ryan Boltzmann has landed in Madrid, Spain from departure city Sydney, Australia.  
Megan Brink has landed in Madrid, Spain from departure city Sydney, Australia.  
12 more stories with similar information. __See More_

All of these people Arthur had traced and found that they'd had the same travel schedule as Ariadne. Each flight being booked within an hour of hers. These were the people Arthur suspected were also looking for her. And yet, they all believed her to be arriving here as well. How could she slip through all of their fingers so easily? She had checked in and boarded the flight to Madrid, her ticket was scanned; she should've been on that flight and the other trackers thought this too. Unless, she stowed away on the plane and to do that she would've needed to buy out some of the flight attendants or even the pilot. Arthur found her flight information, the airport's flight scheduleand all the attendants, the pilot and co-pilot for her flight. Down the list, down the list. He did a flight history check on every name on the flight roster and hit the nail when he clicked on Evelyn Broussard. This attendant's flight history coincided with Ariadne's without falter. Every city Ariadne had been in, this attendant had been in. He cursed himself for not checking that sooner. He logged in to the security feeds in the airport back in Australia around the time their flight would've left. Low and behold, Arthur saw the back of a blonde, about Eames' height that looked _corporate. _They'd found the woman responsible for the hospital trick!

For further information on this Evelyn Broussard, Arthur called the owner of the airline: None other than Mr. Ichiro Saito.  
xxxxxx

Would love to hear from you! Who thinks we should have a little run in between Arthur, Eames and this Evelyn chick and have them squeeze what's going on out of her, eh? Next chapter or chapter after next, you think? Feedback would be lovely!


	6. The Key to Ariadne

Ok! So we're fixing to have a run in with Blondie, Eames and Arthur! Let's see how they handle her and what comes of it. Will she give up Ari's location? Will she decide to help them? Or slip away again?

Sending love to the reviewers for last chapter: _TheAngryLioness, , Guest _and _snapdragon17. _

**Chapter 6- The Key to Ariadne**

"Ah, Mr. Arthur, what a pleasure to hear from you again. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I need some information on one of the attendants hired for your airline."

Saito chuckled, "Easy enough. Let me put my overseer for that on the line with us." There was a click, a rush of Japanese and another click. "Alright, go ahead."

Arthur read off of his computer screen, "Her name is Evelyn Broussard. E#7547200. Last known flight was the 628 from Sydney, Australia to Madrid, Spain. I haven't been alerted of her next run yet."

There was static pause on the other side of the phone for longer than Arthur anticipated. When Saito spoke next it was not information Arthur wanted to hear. "I'm sorry but that attendant's information is confidential. I cannot share it at this time."

"What?"

Saito huffed, "I am not at liberty to disclose any details regarding Ms. Broussard."

"Saito. This is about Ariadne. She's on the run. There are dangerous people after her and I believe this woman to be one of them."

Arthur heard Saito clear his throat and mumble in Japanese. Her heard the sound of the phone hitting the hook, yet, still heard breathing. Saito must've ordered his overseer to leave the conversation so they could discuss the situation privately and off record. He was expecting his petition to be granted, so the Point Man was surprised when Saito uttered, "I'm aware of Miss Ariadne's condition but I've already entered into a contractual agreement with Ms. Evelyn. I cannot do as you ask."

When Arthur punched the nearby chair in frustration, Eames took the phone to see if he could win the multi-billionaire over with his smooth talk. "Well, hello there, Saito! It's you're best buddy." Silence. "Eames?"

Another exasperated sigh, "Mr. Ea—"

"I know, I know but our Dear Architect's life is on the line, here. If you can't give us anything on Blondie, how about some 411 on Ari? Surely, Evelyn must have an idea of her whereabouts."

"No. I apologize. I cannot."

Eames' temper broke through, "With all due respect, Sir…Are you shitting me? If not for Ariadne, your mind would be a boiling pot of goo in Limbo, right now!"

"I'm aware. You know my policy, I always protect my _future_ interests."

"Without _her _help, your business wouldn't have skyrocketed like it has! She is the reason you own the energy industry and are alive to relish it! And now your loyalties lie with one of the scumbags that want her shredded to oblivion? Whose side are you on?"

"Mine." And the line went dead.

_**Bing.**__ Evelyn Broussard deviated from travel pattern. __See More  
__Landed in Tokyo, Japan, departure from Madrid, Spain. 1:28:09 pm.  
11 other stories show landings in Montreal, Canada, departure from Madrid, Spain. 2:10:54 pm._

"Eames, book us a flight to Tokyo. Evelyn is paying a visit to Saito and I want to crash the party."  
xxxxxx

The grand, ceiling to floor, cherry wood doors folded like a fan and slid open revealing a room outlined in sleek walls of windows. A long, dark wooded table graced the center of the room with red velvet, dark cherry wood chairs all around. There were two long couches custom made to match the table chairs in the corner of the large room facing in towards a fireplace. Glass light fixtures, made to order, hung from the ceiling and resembled the traditional paper lanterns Asia was fond of. Sitting at the table going through a stack of files was a distinguished looking CEO. He looked up and warmly smiled at the entering figure.

'Evelyn' was in such awe of the room's design and beauty, she became disoriented for a second and her hand clutched her skirt to feel a familiar weight in its inside pocket. Once she'd gained her bearings she smiled back and walked to offer a handshake to the now standing Saito. "Pleasure to see you, old friend." He grasped her palm with firm respect and cordiality.

"Yes, it is." They dropped hands and he asked her the reason she'd stopped in. She explained to him that she needed the services of his tracing and hacking team and he had them swiftly report to the room and guide her to the section of the building used for that purpose.

"Look up the name, Ariadne Bourgeois."—She spelled it out for them—"The last detected flight location should be Madrid, Spain."

The man she'd chosen to work the closest with, punched in a variety of keys and typed in several combinations of passwords before the glass screen in front of them, lit up, scrolled the globe and a red light began beeping in the last traceable spot the Architect had been. "Perfect." Blondie commented and then gave more instructions, "Scan all airlines for anyone whose travel pattern is identical. Oh, and print them out please." She moved from her spot watching over his shoulder and paced the room patiently. She was brought out of her haze and turned her attention back to the glass screen when she heard the sound effects of several red beeping dots popping up around the original in Madrid. The hot, freshly printed paper shot out from its slot in the desk. Hiro-her right hand man at the moment-handed them to her and expectantly waited for instructions. Blondie ignored him, grabbed a highlighter and went through the long list. Holy shit there were a lot of people looking for Ariadne…it was nerve wracking. She highlighted all of the names she was familiar with, their last location and the times. Most were still in Madrid, Spain waiting for the mark to show up…

_Gregory Connors. Madrid Spain. Stationary. 11:23:04 am  
Patrick Leary. Barcelona, Spain. Stationary. 12:16:15 pm  
Ryan Boltzmann. Madrid, Spain. Stationary. 12:01:52 pm  
Megan Brink. Madrid, Spain. Stationary. 11:55:12 am  
Travis Benedict. Barcelona, Spain. Stationary. 12:30:46 pm_

There were pages and pages more that she scanned through and colored the names she recognized. She stopped, with a gasp and a cuss:  
_Thomas Hansen. Madrid, Spain to Tokyo, Japan. 3:20:03 pm.  
Joshua Blake. Madrid, Spain to Tokyo, Japan. 3:20:03 pm._

Someone wasn't following Ariadne's supposed trail anymore. They were following Evelyn's. She highlighted, circled and then slapped the paper on the desk in front of Hiro's face. "Get me the airport security footage and find these two men." Hiro's fingers dashed across the extensive table of buttons. It took all of two minutes to pull up the Airport's outer security camera. Forward, backward, forward, slow motion. He didn't know what he was looking for," Stop! Go back a few seconds…there." A man in a three-piece dark grey suit, red and white striped tie and gelled back, jet black hair froze in mid-stride. He looked suspiciously to his side at the crowd of people waiting for a cab. On his right, grey slacks. Black button up and grey blazer. Golden hair tussled, full lips pursed, in the middle of sliding on his sunglasses. She recognized the two men as the infamous Point Man—Arthur Nolan—and the sly fox Forger—William Eames. Notorious for finding what they wanted and they wanted Ariadne. Unfortunately, at the moment they were after 'Evelyn' who they thought—_knew, _they _had_ to have known_—_was the key to the Architect. "Book me a flight out of Japan."  
xxxxxx

They wouldn't let the Asian CEO stand in their way. If he couldn't give them the information, they would find someone who would. They'd landed in Japan 2 hours ago and were furiously searching for their next move. To get an idea of who they were dealing with and where they should go next in the city, Arthur called one of his contacts in Rio—a man by the name of Delphi—whom he'd worked his first couple of jobs with. The Point Man had aided Delphi in falling off the map more times than could be counted so it was safe to say he owed him one. Delphi's cousin was a Pilot for Saito's airline. The contact was able to score his Pilot login number and be able to use his access code to enter into the Database system the overseer used exclusively. They sat in their rental car in the airport garage. Arthur's laptop rested on the dashboard in front of them, Eames' iPad was set in his lap and Arthur's phone was on speaker, sitting in the cup holder. Delphi spoke, "All right, I got her. 26 years old. Born in Ponchatoula, LA, USA. Went to community college for a year then dropped and went through Vocational school. She'd only been working for Saito a week, maybe, before she started tracking your girl." They heard the man click his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "Arthur! I found a traceable cell number! Tracking it now…" and heard the steady stream of punching in keys and buttons on the other end. "Uhh…" Delphi's voice sounded abashed all of a sudden.

Eames bit his lip and looked up from the pop the bubbles game he was playing on his touchpad. "What?"

"She checked into a hotel in Paris two and half weeks ago."

"Yes, that was around the time of the shooting." Arthur commented and made sure to type everything Delphi was saying into his own files for future use.

"Right—but—the reservation is still standing. She's been charging all sorts of things to her room, ordering food, using the mini bar, extra towels, you name it. Just twenty minutes ago she had a Boeuf Bourgogne delivered to her room."

Eames squinted his eyes and scratched his chin. "That's impossible." Arthur's fingers halted on the keys of his laptop, "But she's been active in the airline database. There aren't two Evelyn Broussard's: I've checked numerous times."

Delphi 'hmph'ed. "What did you say she looked like again?"

"Blonde, Eames' hei—"

"Evelyn Broussard is black. In her yearbook photos, her airline id, her driver's license, her student id, her passport..."

Arthur grunted and then spout out the fact of the matter, "Saito, had Blondie use Evelyn's id so she could track Ariadne undetected and unidentified…shit."

Eames in turn did his own groaning and bumped his head against the headrest of his seat, "What is it with these people and identity swapping?"

Arthur's phone screen lit up with an incoming call. He thanked Delphi for the help he provided and switched over while Eames adjusted in his seat trying to process the new _new _information. It was like every time they seemed to get ahead and start dusting off the truth, their knowledge had to be rerouted. First Ariadne was shot and missing. Then Ariadne was crippled in the hospital. Then suddenly, Ariadne wasn't crippled at all—someone else was—and Ariadne was shot and missing again. Then Ariadne was willingly on the run—then caught—then on the run. And this Evelyn chick they'd been hunting wasn't even the real Evelyn chick. And Saito was a dick. Eames' ears perked up at-

"Cobb? Have you found out anything?" His voice was slightly strained.

The man on the other end of the line sighed, "She's fine."

"How do you know? Have you tracked her? What do you mean_ fine_? Where is she?" Eames listened to Arthur rambled out questions like word vomit.

"She called me. From a payphone." Arthur's heart sunk. He'd hoped that given a chance, he would be the first one Ariadne would call for help. "She's a bit battered up, she's had a few run ins with her pursuers but she thinks she's safe at the moment—"

Arthur was impatient; he gritted through the line, "Did she say where she was?"

"En route to Round Rock, Texas. She plans to catch the next greyhound to anywhere and get back off the map. She just wanted to let me know she was ok."

"Because you're the one out here searching, right?"

Cobb knew Arthur was capable of sarcasm but it was rarely ever used against him. The extractor defended, "I know you've been worried, Arth-"

"Worried? I've torn the earth apart trying to find her and the first opportunity she gets, she chooses to call you. Let _you- _sitting at home on your ass-know that she's ok. Have you even talked to her since Inception?"

"Many times, actually. Will you calm down? I could've chosen not to call you." He talked down to his former student and business partner like he was his own son.

The Point Man relaxed and sighed, "Yeah. No, I know. Sorry. Thank you for calling me."

Cobb took a deep breath to go ahead and prepare for Arthur's reaction, "You're welcome, but…don't go after her."

"Excuse me?" His voice was devoid of irritation but Dom knew it was smeared on his face.

"She told me not to tell you. She only gave permission to tell Miles she was alright but she told me specifically not to send anyone after her."

Arthur deadpanned, "Well _you're_ not sending me. I'm looking for her on my own accord. If you wanted me to stay put and let her do this alone than you shouldn't have called me. Bye, Cobb."

"Arth—"

"I'll call you when I have Ariadne."

He hung up and met Eames' eyes whose were wide with shock and amusement. Before Arthur could open his mouth and tell Eames to stuff whatever comment he was fixing to chide back down his throat, Eames held up his touchpad and pointing to a new alert. "Looks like Blondie is taking a trip to TX, too." He smiled and without word, started to change route and book a flight to the U.S.

When the plane touched down in Austin, Arthur and Eames picked up a rental car to drive to Round Rock. It'd be almost impossible to check every bus stop in the city but they could start at the major Bus Station. If she wanted to get on a bus that would take her out of the city and into others (possibly other states) she would need to start there.  
xxxxxx

Ariadne sensed someone approaching. Someone unwanted. Someone with focuses intent on her, her spidey senses were tingling with an unsettling feeling. Lately, she'd been feeling this way everywhere she went. Everytime she turned the corner. The knowledge that hundreds of men were hired to hunt her down made her panicky so she ducked out of the line of the greyhound and began slowly making her way into the darkness of the streets…she heard the sounds of 3 inch heels clicking in time with her own. She picked up her pace, hoped it was unnoticed and turned the corner with a brief and rapidly fleeting sense of relief.

xxxxxx

There. Just stepping onto the bus was a short brunette. Arthur and Eames sprinted down the street and pushed their way onto the bus, examining every face. That wasn't her, this wasn't her bus. Walking down the stairs, Arthur noticed far off in the distance: a suited blonde…powerwalking away from the greyhound station. A blonde that fit the exact description of the one who'd been leading them on a chase and planting decoy Ariadne's since that day in the hospital. The doctor had said: Average height, blonde, corporate…and this woman embodied that. This woman was definitely evidenced to have been after Ariadne too and she was determinedly pursuing something or someone. "Hey, you!" Eames shouted and the two men gave chase.  
xxxxxx

Evelyn turned just enough to glance and see two suited men on her tail. She picked up into a slight jog. When she heard the taller man yell at her again she kicked off her heels and began sprinting down the streets, turning here and there. She couldn't fail. If these men caught her she'd be done. If they found the Architect…it was deadly.  
xxxxxx

This woman was faster than one would expect. Her blonde tresses flowed and fell out of her neatly pinned bun as she cut down street after street and ducked behind this building and that car. She was leading them in a labyrinth of directions, Arthur and Eames were gaining on her however. They wouldn't slow, she was _the key to Ariadne_. Evelyn ran through several corner stores and almost lost them numerous times but they always managed to catch sight of her blurry body again and jump back on her trail. As they came closer and closer she threw her black patent leather heels behind her (in futile hopes it would stumble them). Her hip collided with the bumper of a parallel parked truck and at that point, Arthur and Eames were so close they could hear her yell in pain. She gripped the bruising area but was hell-bent to keep going. Stumbling.

Evelyn opted to take what she believed to be a shortcut behind a grocery store that had just closed up for the night and found herself in an alleyway. Cornered. She looked around desperately for a hiding place and started for the dumpster when the sound of a gunshot halted her. The surprising pain in her shoulder became overwhelming. All of a sudden, a strong arm was around her neck pulling her farther from her haven of a dumpster. Her arms pitifully outstretched towards her saving grace.

Arthur dragged the woman away from her hiding place and brought his mouth to her ear, "I've had enough of playing tag. I've had enough decoys and where's waldo…What have you done with her?"

"With who?" The blonde coughed and struggled against Arthur's ever tightening headlock.

"Ariadne Bourgeois, that's who and don't even pretend that's not why you're in Texas or who you were running after."

Eames, who'd just caught up to Arthur and reached the scene, was unnerved at the rough manner Arthur was treating this woman. On the norm, Arthur was gentle and respectful to every one of the female gender. "Arthur."

"Arthur?"

"Tell me where she is or I give you my word, I'll snap your neck like a twig." The woman in his hold tensed and tried to pry his arms looser. Evelyn was gasping for breath. If he wanted to know where Ariadne was, he was more than welcome.

Evelyn's voice came out hoarse and labored, barely being able to bring the volume higher than a whisper, "I can't tell you, if I can't breathe."

The Point Man released her with a force and pushed her away. "Where is Ariadne?"

Evelyn heaved in the corner for a moment to regain her composure. She was lightheaded and sucking in air hurt her lungs more than satisfied them. She quickly turned around, though, to avoid another bullet in the shoulder and confessed to the suited offender in a crushed, scratchy voice, "I'm right here, Arthur." She pulled the blonde wig off and chestnut brown curls fell around her face as her terse breathing continued.  
xxxxxx

Well. What do you think about that? Muahahah.


	7. All My Exes

Hey, hey! I'd like to take the time to thank _Legal-Assassin-006, The Angry Lioness _(your review made me die laughing by the way. I hope you saying shit hit the fan was a good thing. Haha), _snapdragon17 _(aww, I'm glad I gave you that impression.),_cinematherapy,_ and _FarFromFlawless. _

I hope some of the chapter's explanation will clear the confusion about Ariadne actually being Evelyn. But if not, leave a review, tell me and next chapter I'll draw the parallels and point out how it is in fact possible in the A/N after I thank everybody.

**Chapter 7:** **All My Exes**

Eames registered the change of circumstances immediately. He rushed to her side and guided her to a busted crate that she could sit on and leant her against the wall. The forger over-rided her senses with his Aqua Velva cologne when he gave her a bear hug she believed was designed to crush her bones-He apologized profusely when he realized his strength and saw that she winced at the pressure put on her gunshot wound. She looked the part of a fugitive. Dark circles painted in crescents under her eyes, body weight thinned—was that possible?-She had remnants of an attempted capture visible: The right side of her jaw was swollen, her lower lip cut and crusted, a nasty looking purple gash on her forehead. When asked about any other injuries, she answered with some bruised ribs and knees. Eames lifted her spirits by joking, "Is there anywhere you aren't injured, Indiadne Jones?" As a reward, she laughed melodiously for him and mimed the crack of an imaginary whip.

Arthur observed, stunned. Black and white—the alleyway, the street that laid at the opening, their faces—black and white. Their mouths were moving but he hadn't heard the sounds. They moved but Arthur's mind processed it vaguely, as if it wasn't happening. It was like he was watching a silent movie.

Eames questioned if she would be ok once they fixed her up and Ariadne nodded with a labored but genuine smile and her breathing finally returned to a somewhat normal pace. It was only when they turned their attention to Arthur expectantly that he registered the past six minutes and eleven point three seconds. He deadpanned at her, his gun falling out of his now limp hand and making a loud metal clank on the pavement. There she was. After three weeks and one day, eleven hours, fourteen minutes and twenty three—now twenty four—…every second of that spent thinking about her, worrying about her, searching for her…she was sitting in front of him. Ariadne was _right there_. He was looking into _her eyes_, she was licking _those_ dry lips. _Ariadne_ was right there. He took in every detail like he was inhaling it: Her skirt suit was grey, pinstripe, looked to be of rayon. White shirt blouse crinkled under her ribs, most likely from hunching over in a seat. Her feet were dirtied, scraped on the bottom of her big toe. She looked tired, eyes drooped a fraction more than normal. One sleeve cuff was rolled up unevenly, one shoulder ripped, Wait-A dark wet spot was growing on her shoulder and his eyebrows shot up in recognition. That wound was his fault. _He'd shot her_. He'd _shot _Ariadne. He'd nearly _choked_ Ariadne. He _could have killed_ Ariadne. Could he imagine? Letting his anger getting the best of him, wanting to make the Blonde pay for her input in Ariadne's disappearance, letting himself choke her, letting her body flop to the ground and then rolling her over to look into the face of The Architect? His mind lost all function and it took him few long strides to stand in front of her. Eyes wide and apologetic, "Ariadne…I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I'm- I'm_ so_ sorry." He gritted his teeth and threw his fist into the brick wall for punishment.

Ariadne, who'd been equally studying him and his odd behavior, assured, "It's ok. You didn't know."

"I shot you. I choked the hell out of you." He copied Eames and squatted by the crate opposite him, "Are you ok?"

She lazily coaxed, "I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. Stop worrying about it."

"But that's what Artie does best."

Arthur ignored the Brit and lowered his voice as he reminded her, "I gave Miles, Cobb and _you _my word that I would never hurt you. I've broken that."

She lightly touched the sleeve of his suit, "You didn't _know_ it was me. I knowyou wouldn't have if you did." She turned her focus to the Forger kneeling by her other side, "I'm just glad to see two friendly faces. You could've ran me over with a truck and I'd still be ecstatic." She laughed and gave way to another fit of coughs.

Eames put her good arm around his shoulders and helped her up, "Let's get you somewhere safe and we'll have a bit of quality time. How does that sound?"

Ariadne watched Arthur slump over to his gun and return it to his holster. He rolled his shoulder back to the posture they were accustomed to. "Sounds good…" She gave Arthur a hopeful smile but he chose to walk past her without meeting her eyes. He was beating himself up about it, visibly ashamed at the way he'd handled her. You would've thought he had murdered her.  
xxxxxx

The car ride had an aura of awkwardness mixed with relief. Arthur drove them into Austin and scouted for a hotel to bunker down in simultaneously. Every now and again (every few seconds) he would look in the rearview mirror and check on the backseat's occupants. Eames sat with the Architect, dressing her wounds and prying in a conversational tone. "So the blonde? Wanted to try a little make over, did we? Do they really have more fun, deary?"

"I mean, no one would describe me as a tall, blonde in a suit so I figured that'd raise my chances of being undetected, yeah." She winced and bit the inside of her cheek as he tightened the material tied around her gunshot wound.

The forger pulled out an alcohol wipe and began to clear the dried blood from her face, "Tell me how you got from Paris to Australia without a trace of anything…that was impressive."

"Oh, I called in a favor with Saito and we made an agreement: He'd help me hide out and I'd design his new corporate towers in Dubai. It wasn't a hard bargain!" She laughed and turned her head more towards Eames so he could reach the other side of her face, "I posed as one of the flight attendants that work for his airline: Evelyn as I guess you figured. I did a couple flights just in case and it's a good thing, too, because on the second run we went to New York and I actually served a drink to one of the men chasing me."

Eames paused his doctoring and looked at her questioningly. She playfully gestured to her face, "Not a clue."

He chuckled, "Well then how on earth were you in Spain and in Japan at the same time—"

"Oh that was great…" She nodded, "I knew they'd track my credit card for purchases right? So I used it and my name (cause I knew they'd think I'd be stupid enough to use it) and I made up a sister just under age so she wouldn't have a permit they'd need to see and then I found these two women—one looked a lot like me- who's flight was canceled and just gave them the tickets. Got the one's for Japan as Evie and voila."

"Very nice." He gestured for her to give him her other arm so he could clean those cuts. "How did you become so clever?"

She looked in the rear view mirror to make eye contact with Arthur, "By watching the best of the best."

He met her gaze and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before she dropped her eyes back to Eames and elaborated, "I've watched Arthur track people so I know what he looks for, and I assumed most Point Men would look for the same clues."

"Ah."

"That was my inspiration I guess…Pretend Arthur is looking for you and make sure he'd never be able to find you if he was." The aura in the car had morphed into something hazy, something darker, something secret and it was radiating off of her, fogging up the windows.

Eames paused his first aid yet again. He looked her in the eyes, skeptical, searching…he thought he'd uncovered a double meaning in her sentence, an implication. _Something_ was there, something in her head that she was pulling back the reins on. An idea or an emotion that she'd begun to express but retracted for fear of revealing too much meaning but he couldn't put his finger on it. She dropped their eye lock and looked to her lap, and so Eames looked to the mirror for Arthur's; He'd sensed it too. The situation was more dangerous than she was letting on. She wanted to…but she was trying to be brave. She didn't want to inflict her problems and dangers on them. After their silent conversation he returned to cleaning her up and changed the subject. "How are you feeling? Hungry, sleepy?"

"I don't really know…my biological clock is out of control." Her lighthearted, comfortable demeanor was back in play, "I basically eat when I find something, hungry or not, and sleep when I feel safe. Which is…never."

Arthur chimed in for the first time during the long car ride with an, "I know the feeling."  
xxxxxx

They arrived at the hotel and Arthur got the penthouse on night by night pay because they weren't sure how long they could stay in one place. After bringing the luggage up, they brought Ariadne, so she would avoid suspicious looks from the front desk. Her jaw literally dropped to the ground when she walked in, it was so uniquely furnished. Rich honey woods, warm maroons and autumn oranges, the rare cow printed suede pillow here and there. Plush, inviting and with all the cowboy loving personality of the state of Texas. It made her want to grab a guitar, sing home on the range and cook up some hot dogs over a fire. She would bet Eames probably had a cowboy hat packed in his suitcase somewhere. The forger appeared in front of her and for a split second she wondered if he'd heard her thought and was there to confront her. But nope, he held out a bag of ice for her to hold on her jaw and patted her on the back. Arthur announced that he'd order them room service—unaffected by the space and luxury. After all he saw these regularly- and pointed Ariadne towards what would be her suite so she could unload her bag, settle into her area and what not. Half an hour later, the food arrived. Hot and piping. Texas barbeque, naturally. Mouth-watering rib meat falling off the bones, baked beans—Eames insisted but Arthur and Ariadne would pay for it later-, collard greens, garlic bread. He went to knock on Ariadne's door and found it halfway open, light on, her sling bag dropped in front of the door and Ariadne practically passed out on the bed. She hadn't made it all the way on, though, her bottom half looked like she was standing and the top half laid over the edge. One of her hands barely held the ice in place, it mostly laid next to the bag and her head had turned into it.

Her breathing was deep, he could hear it from his spot by the door. Fast rush in, hold, slow flood out; he imagined just how long she'd had to sacrifice sleep for safety as he pushed her door open and moved her sling bag in the process, placing it on the dresser quietly. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. Her eyes fluttered around behind her eyelids. Her body twitched ever so often, the way one does when they've been too deprived. (When one's muscles are so used to flinching at every sound, just in case.) The ice chips had started melting and leaking onto the sheets so Arthur removed it and went to sit it in her bathroom sink. He thought about it for a good moment and decided that any human would care about her comfort after what she's been through. It would be appropriate to see to it. So with an abundance of care, he took her shoes off- even though he knew she was so far gone she wouldn't wake if a train ripped through the room. Arthur lifted her up and removed the suit jacket, knowing all too well how restricting they can be during sleep. For a moment, he left her to pull back the comforter and crisp sheets down the bed halfway. He returned; his arm slid under her knees chastely and moved her up. Arthur slowly laid her back against the pillows and laid the comforters on top of her. Satisfied, he stood straight and allowed himself to stare again. Stare at the woman that he honestly was beginning to doubt he'd find. That he thought was surely broken beyond repair. Then he allowed himself to soften his eyes and let the corner of his mouth upturn victoriously (she couldn't see him anyways) He let himself sink in the feeling that he'd actually found her. She was safe and sound with he and Eames.

"Don't you think it's a bit creepy to stare at her while she's asleep, like that?" Speak of the devil…The Forger appeared at the doorframe, cheekily. Miles' description of him was dead on if ever a description was. The Point Man's face hardened again before he turned, "Let's eat; she needs her rest."

"You've been in here all of ten minutes…" Eames picked at him as he shoved him out of her room, "_What_ were you doing, hmm?"

Arthur turned off the light and cracked the door before pushing Eames and quietly cussing him out.

**xxxxxx**

Ariadne woke herself up by having a 'near rolling off the bed' experience. She stood too fast and a blinding light ripped through her vision; a wave of dizziness forced her to sit back down. By wiping the crusties from her eyes and the moisture off her chin, she gathered her bearings and remembered to check her totem. Satisfied, she re-pocketed it and went to the bathroom to relieve herself. In the process, snippets of Eames and Arthur's rescue came to memory and she realized she was in the hotel suite.

Groggily (and on a mission to find food), she shuffled into the main room. She halted, startled, and blinked at the figure on the couch that she should've guessed would be there. "Hi." He beckoned nonchalantly, looking up from his laptop for once.

"Hi…" A nervous hand ran through her hair, "how long was I asleep?"

"A couple days."

"Oh." It's all she could think to reply with. It didn't need an answer, she knew she'd been asleep a while…judging from the foreign way she reacted to the waking world a few minutes before. This is when he stood and gestured to the kitchenette, leading the way, "Are you hungry? I could whip up an omelet or some pancakes. We only bought general items since we weren't positive about what you'd prefer…"

Ariadne picked through the cabinet and big smile spread across her face. She had grabbed the box, scavenged for a bowl and spoon and had begun to pour the milk before Arthur could even read that she'd sprung for Cocoa Puffs. "God Bless Eames," left her lips as she sat down at the breakfast table with an eager grin.

Arthur followed suit, "How do you know _he_—"

"You wouldn't be the one that picked up cereal," The spoon swirled around and dunked the puffs, making sure none were dry, "I suspect you chose the pâté in the fridge?" She smirked and shoveled in a spoonful of chocolate and milk, "Mmm." Arthur stayed silent for a moment to let her enjoy. Halfway through the bowl, Ariadne spewed a random fact at him, "My dad and I would eat Cocoa Puffs together every morning, growing up."

The Point Man nodded and before he knew it, "My mom liked Cinnamon Toast Crunch; it's all we ever had in the house." He punched himself internally for revealing a personal part of himself when he saw her eyes alight and look at him mischievously. He could see her tucking that information into her mental pocket and dreaded the oncoming curiosity. Instead of questions, though, she rewarded him with a smile. He bit back the regret and moved forward with their conversation, "How did you sleep?"

"Like the dead," She chuckled

Arthur stood and went back to the fridge to pour himself some milk, "The swelling in your jaw went down." She hummed in response. "Are your ribs feeling better?"

Ariadne called from her spot in between bites, "Still sore but not as bad."

"Good," he closed the fridge door and leant against the counter, drinking his milk, "Once you get acclimated to the suite, if you'll make a list of anything you think you might need, Eames and I will go out and get it for you."

She finished drinking the chocolaty milk from the bowl and suggested, "I could just go with you…it might be easier."

The Point Man re-entered the area Ariadne was in, "For the time being, just before we sweep the area, I'd feel more comfortable with you staying put."

She nodded. Obviously not thrilled but yielding to the circumstances and Arthur's eyes. The forger walked in, greeted her as sleeping beauty and patiently (or not so much) waited for her to make her list of things for them to get.  
**xxxxxx**

Ariadne emerged from her room and stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot at… "Eames," She glared.

Arthur turned his attention to her and fought an amused smirk. "What is that?"

"_Why _in the hell was Eames in charge of getting my pajamas?"

"I figured it would be easiest for him. Imagine a whole wardrobe like that." Unfortunately, his amused smirk could hide no longer. Ariadne was wearing a Winnie the Pooh footie. Despite his hard exterior, even he couldn't ignore the adorable shining off of her in that ridiculous outfit.

Eames chided from in front of the tv, "There was _another_option in the bag, dearest."

"Well, _dearest, _I'm afraid I can't wear _that_in polite company. Where did you even find it? Strippers R Us?" She gritted at him. Her apparent state of annoyance made it all the more funny to Eames, though, which made it all the more annoying to the Architect. She plucked a pillow off the nearby chair, threw it at the Brit and stalked to the kitchenette.

The Forger chuckled, "_I'm_not polite. We'll wait til Arthur goes to beddy bye, hmm?"

Arthur shot daggers with his eyes at the man for objectifying her. He was about to come to her defense but as he opened his mouth, her voice sounded in the midst of clanking in the kitchenette. "Sorry to disappoint you but I have a feeling Arthur will be up all night doing research, per usual."

"Shit. I was looking forward to some sexy times."

"Oh Darn…" She sarcastically retorted and pulled out the coffee brewer.

Eames jumped up and booked it to where she was standing, "Woah-woah, what are you up to?"

"Making Arthur and I some coffee," and as an afterthought, she forced herself to offer kindly, "would you like some?"

"You better leave that to me." Cockily, he leaned against the counter with a simper, "Whose coffee do you think the team drank every morning? Everyone knows I brew the best coffee in the Universe."

She flashed him a facetious smile, "I wouldn't. I brought my own every morning," and continued brewing and adding special ingredients.

Eames scoffed, "Arthur would agree mine is better. Wouldn't you?"

"I haven't tried Ariadne's." He monotonously replied without leaving the screen of his computer and Eames rolled his eyes, "Well of course you would take _her _side."

Ariadne flicked her eyebrows, "Care to put your money where your mouth is?" She slapped her hand against the counter and leaned into him challengingly.

"Care to put _your mouth _where my mouth is?" Eames snickered and leaned closer himself. Arthur tensed and finally glanced up to look at the pair. The forger stood over her, their faces dangerously close. Their noses would touch with the twitch of either's head.

The Architect's smirk expanded to a toothy smile, "You're disgusting," she chuckled and left him to it, deciding to walk over and join Arthur.

"You like it."

"You're hitting on me while I'm wearing Winnie the Pooh…" Ariadne sat next to Arthur and turned over the back of the couch to see Eames.

Arthur and Ariadne heard an exaggerated purr from Eames direction, "S_exy beast_."

"Stop wiggling your eyebrows like that…" she brought her knees to her chest as she shouted, "and make the damn coffee, Eames." She tried to sound utterly appalled by Eames but the boys could hear the amusement in her words. She was used to it; Eames shamelessly flirted with her at the warehouse constantly. Not that he was attracted to her like that or the other way around but they were really close buddies and they got the biggest kick out of that form of teasing. Eames especially because he was the only one of the two who noticed how flared up and pissy the Point Man got when they started that kind of talk up. He poured out her mixture and started on his own. Loudly at that. The two on the couch could hear the fridge opening and closing, the sound of beans pouring into the glass pot. "Hey Tiny, where are we?"

"Texas, idiot."

"Remember Gus'?" It sounded gibberish to Arthur but Ariadne knew exactly what he was getting at. She'd gone to visit Cobb and his kids with Miles a few months back and Eames had been in town as well. After one of James' soccer games the Extractor had driven the kids through In n Out for dinner but they'd wanted a sit down, hole in the wall gem to dine in. The two ended up at a place downtown called Gus' Dine and Shine. Not until they had sat down and ordered did they find out that guests and employees could take a break from their greasily dripping, so nasty they were amazing burgers to stand under the spotlight and sing for the rest of the restaurant. They'd had a most enjoyable and hilarious time and had a hands down favorite performer for the night. One of the burly tourists paid homage to his home state and Ariadne and Eames spent the rest of the trip continuously reminiscing his invigorating performance. It drove Cobb insane, especially when Philippa and James caught on to the joke and began singing it just to make the Architect and Forger laugh. "Oh my God…Hank…"

Arthur's eyebrows creased. Hank?

Eames' British accent disappeared to favor a mocking, western, country boy lilt, "I'd like to dedicate this song to the real love of my life…..the lone star state."

Out of nowhere he heard them chime, "All my exes live in Texas, and that's a place I'd dearly love to beeeeee. But alllllll my exes live in Texas. And that's why I hang my hat in Tennesseeeeeeee!"

The churlish low hum of Eames' chuckle and the frothy, ringing bells of Ariadne's giggle mixed and bounced around in the hotel room…"Oh Hank, I love you." She sighed and they were quiet again.

Several minutes later, Arthur offered to go pick her up some more options the next day but she declined, "No it's fine. _As obnoxious as this footie is_," She made sure to say that part as loud and pointed as possible, "it's way more comfortable than that stupid skirt suit I've been wearing."

"I shouldn't have sent Eames to get anything. Leave it to him not to take it seriously."

Behind them Eames scoffed and she turned to stick her tongue out at him, "Beggars can't be choosers unfortunately."

"I apologize."

"On the Brightside, you replicated my old wardrobe, cardigans and all." She beamed (at him and not Eames and his jokes this time) and something in him soared… "So I really have no reason to complain. Thank you for what you've already gotten, I'll just sleep in a tank and jeans or something. It's cool."

He minimized one of the tabs on his screen and returned his attention to her, "I don't want you to have to sleep in jeans."

Eames called from the kitchenette, "No! I'll bet you don't want her to have to sleep in anything!"

Ariadne's face turned scarlet and Arthur's face (back to steel) buried itself in his screen once more. She turned over the couch again, "Eames! Coffee, you asshole!"

Without making eye contact with her again, he stated with no question that he'd have more options available in the morning. And fearing any other chance of Eames' teasing, she just nodded and looked over his shoulder to watch him work while they waited for the coffee. She watched as he hacked into accounts, pulled up backgrounds on Google and typed things she found no importance of on a spreadsheet of sorts. Eames hadn't even finished his self-proclaimed gourmet coffee before she fell asleep on the couch. The effects of a stressful few weeks caught up to her. When Arthur tried to move her to her bed, she had stirred. For fear of disturbing her much needed rest, he opted to spread her out on the couch, cover her with his suit jacket and move to the nearby chair to continue his research in silence. Eames paid no mind and continued to clamber around in the kitchen.

By morning, a collection of track shorts and Long Horn Texas t-shirts were folded neatly and laid on her bed. The last shirt in the pile, however, was sloppily half folded, half crumpled. She suspected Eames' handiwork. It had "All my exes live in Texas" printed on the front in old western font with a broken open heart wearing a cowboy hat. She hiccupped a soundless laugh and turned to look on the back. Scrawled in Eames' exclusive chicken scratch with sharpie was "And if my Point Man finds em, he'll kill em."

Xxxxxx

So this was a bit of a fun respite from the action. Every speedy story needs a humorous, lighthearted break now and then. Again, if you're still like: BUT HOW COULD SHE BE IN TWO PLACES AT ONCE DAMMIT about Ariadne and Evelyn, let me know in a review and I can clear it up next chapter in the A/N where I thank people before I march into the story. I'd be happy to clear it up and make it make more sense. **You can be ANON! Because I know signing in just to leave a review is a pain in the ass. **=)

But even if it makes sense or you don't care if it makes sense, other kinds of reviews that just say. Hey, someone is reading this would be awesome. We got some more shit hitting the fan ( wink wink _**Angry Lioness**_) next chapter. =) I'm excited.


	8. Smashed

Hola! Thanks to my reviewers and alerters: _Guest, Legal-Assassin-006, cinematherapy, Sycilly, applythepressure, emc098, Feelthefreedom, nanfan1901 _and _snapdragon17_

**Chapter 8:** **Smashed.**

_Four days_. Four days of being cooped up and the suite began to lose its luster. What The Architect had once found a charming living space to cavort around in now felt like an exhausted pit in which she was forced to wallow. She felt she'd caught up on sleep—what else could she do, really?- seeing as the dark circles faded back into porcelain and her wounds had reduced to scars. She was back on a normal sleep and eat schedule. Well for the most part. The excess of sleep was not normal…and maybe she should stop napping all the time so Arthur would get the hint that she wasn't extremely drowsy_… just bored, plain old bored_. Four days of non-stop rest—if she tried to gallivant and do something entertaining Arthur would insist she sit down and _relax_- and all the Texas barbeque Ariadne was able to consume—she might never be able to eat it again- should be plenty of time to recuperate. That was how she knew that Arthur was beginning to use her welfare as an excuse to keep her in. Because _by God_, she felt fine. She was ready to sprint down the alleyways and stowaway on airplanes again.

He pulled the hammer and handed Ariadne the gun. "We're going to do some investigating. I-

"We are?" Her eyes lit up.

"Eames and I." Arthur corrected but didn't miss the deflation in her mood. "I want—"

"Where exactly are you going? Do you have a lead?" Investigating: _Exciting_. Even if she wasn't going…I mean, Eames could relay all the interesting stuff to her once they returned. Aside from Eames going out to pick up more milk and sneaking her to the hallway vending machine for a Three Musketeers candy bar… this was the most exhilarating thing to happen to her in _four days._

"Not yet; It would just ease my anxiety to snoop around and secure our parameters. Any sign of trouble and we're leaving."

Ariadne protested, "Can't I come with you?"

He tried to explain, "I'm leaving you in the suite to ensure your safety not endanger it. Try to get more rest."

_More rest. _She wondered if he could guess her thoughts by her sarcastic deadpan at him.If she slept any more, people would assume her dead. No, she was sick of nothingness. She was on the run, damn it, shouldn't it be more enthralling than this? "I've rested up just fine. And you gave me a gun...I could accidentally shoot myself, that would be endangering me." Her stubbornness and sarcasm always unhinged him. Especially, when he was doing his best to protect her. It was like he had to pull teeth, tie her down and hold her like a hostage for her to cooperate with his safety procedures. Couldn't she just be easy on him once? He already didn't want to leave her alone here and now she was talking about all the things that could go wrong if he did.

He requested, "Don't talk like that," and further pointed out, "I taught you how to both safely and prudently handle a firearm." Now paranoid, he reached over and flicked the safety back on the gun she held.

She wouldn't let it go. Her eyebrows raised, "I could accidentally fall off the balcony. Is that endangerment?"

"Ariadne." No. It was too much. It was too close to what happened to Mal. Mal had jumped out of the window of her and Cobb's hotel suite and killed herself. It was too much of a parallel. Ariadne's bullheadedness rivaled that of Cobb's late wife. She was just as set in her ways and determined, if not more. Arthur had said her name in a way he'd never said it before. Commanding. He wanted her to shut up and shut up good. Her words were destabilizing him and he'd had enough. The sudden realization in her face showed that she, too, had made the connection. She retracted and simmered down. "Fine."

"I don't want you to be more than an arm's length away from that gun."

She nodded drearily and let him elaborate, "I'll call you in twenty minute intervals. Answer by the second ring or something's wrong." He didn't say, answer by the second ring or _I'll think_ something's wrong. He didn't say if you don't answer by the second ring, _it'll imply _something's wrong. No, it was fact. By the third ring, all hell had broken loose in the apartment and Arthur and Eames would come barging in and shooting.

"Ok."

He put his hand on her shoulder, "Don't answer the door for anyone- not even Eames and I. We should have our own key."

Sarcastically, she interrupted, "I mean, would they knock? I'd just blow up the suite."

His eyes closed and tried to keep his manner congruent, "Ariadne…"

"Would you two stop bickering? You sound like a damned married couple." Eames was at the door waiting impatiently. Arthur and his precautions…The sooner they got out of that suite the sooner they'd get back.

"Sorry. I've got the gun. Go, I'll be fine."

Eames patted her on the back and started his way down the hall. The Point Man gave her one last look, like it'd be the last time he saw her and closed the door. And she was alone.  
xxxxxx

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Arthur's first check-up she presumed. It'd only been ten minutes not twenty…but she wouldn't put it past him to call earlier. Except it wasn't the hotel phone ringing. Eames' phone had been hanging on his holster and she was positive Arthur had his on him. Suddenly she became alarmed…she'd destroyed that phone she'd used to call Saito. Ariadne saw her own foot stomp it to pieces. She hadn't bought another; she'd used a payphone to call Cobb. She followed the sound of the bells to her messenger bag and began tearing through it to find the source of the noise. Just as she grasped it, it stopped. It was small in the palm of her hand, a pre-paid phone. She could tell because it flipped open and closed, much too simple for a company phone dropped into her bag by accident. Had Saito left this as a present for her future use? Or was this from somebody else? Who had been_ that_ near to her that she had not noticed? It gave Ariadne goose bumps to think that someone fixed on her termination could have been breathing down her neck, brushing against her without her knowledge. Ariadne held the device away from her like it was diseased. **Beep**. A voicemail awaited her—signaled by the number one in a red bubble above the envelope icon. Cautiously she held it to her ear and listened: "Hello, Ariadne. It's really rude of you to ignore us like this. If you think not answering this phone will keep us from tracking you, you're sorely mistaken. You seem to have forgotten that first trip we paid you. You might want to answer next time, beautiful. There's no avoiding us. Say hello to Arthur and Eames for me."

The phone dropped out of her fist like hotcakes and her grip on the gun tightened. Did they know where she was? Did they know she'd come into contact with Arthur and Eames? Obviously, the man had mentioned them. Ariadne's first concern: protect the boys as if they were the ones in danger. She couldn't let her pursuers find them. The hotel phone rang…she stared at it apprehensively. Who would be on the other end of the line? It rang again…one more and The Point Man would be darting back-Biting her lip, she answered. "Ar-" no, if it was _someone else_ she didn't want to confirm Arthur and Eames' involvement—"Hel-Hello?"

"Everything ok?" She could see his ears sharpen, his posture over-straighten, the image of his stance readying itself like a bull rubbing its hoof on the ground before charge. She heard the steel and trepidation leak into his voice and cursed herself for sounding unsure.

Her heart slowed its pace with knowledge that it was _him, _though, and she tried to sound put off and sardonic again. "Yes, I'm ok."

She felt his suspicion through the invisible line connecting them. "…Staircase." _Honestly?_

Ariadne huffed, "I'm alone, Arthur." There was no need to use the safe code he maintained they create on their third job together. He wanted them to be able to still honestly communicate over the phone if a gun was being held to her head and she was being forced to act sunny and unthreatened. There were a series of questions she had to answer and any deviation from the origin would alert him to danger.

"Staircase." He insisted.

"Penrose." _Yes._

"Why would you run a train through a busy intersection?" _Why did you sound unnerved when you answered?_

"I didn't." _I didn't._

"I tried not to come." _Do you need us to come back?_

"There's nothing quite like it." _There's nothing wrong._

"Are they still staring?" _You're positive?_

"Yes but it was worth a shot." _YES._

He took a deep breath and the suspicion subsided, "Keep the gun by your side, I'll call again in twenty."

After hanging up with the Point Man, an overwhelming amount of obligation and pressure began weighing down on her. A guilt for dragging them into this. Pressure to let the people chasing her have their way so they would spare Arthur and Eames. Pressure to honor Arthur's request. Pressure to answer both phones. It pressed down on her ribcage and suffocated her. Ariadne had never been claustrophobic and yet there wasn't enough room in this hotel suite. The walls were closing in around her. She was a trapped bird and she couldn't escape. Ariadne felt like a sitting duck. But what could she do? Throw her stuff in her bag and go on the run again? Disappear off the map just as she'd found the boys? What would she do? Abandon them? Arthur would have a coronary. When the burden became unbearable she searched Eames' room for a bottle of whiskey or two.

A short glass of amber liquid sat on the coffee table in front of her…just begging her to take a sip. Promising her that it would fix her problems for her if she trusted it. The two phones laid on either side taunting her, playing tug-a-war with her inner obligations. A gun and knife lay just behind the bottles of whiskey, hiding themselves from her all too experimental thoughts. There was something she absolutely had to do, and Eames seemed to get courage this way…so she might as well try. The cell phone rang. The same number as before popping up and winking at her. _Say hello to Arthur and Eames for me. _She hadn't thought she'd reached for the glass but the burning feeling had already slid its way down her throat. It tasted horrible but the idea of a soothed mind appealed to her. So she downed the rest of the glass and pressed the phone to ignore the call.

Poured another. Stared at it. _There's no avoiding us._ Not the least bit of confidence had been restored. Not an ounce of rebellion or alleviation had been added to her being. It angered her. Alcohol was supposed to make things easier. _Drink me_. It called to her…her hand snatched the glass and she gulped every drop. Slammed it down.

Poured another. Ariadne fiddled with the labeling on the bottle, shredded it off in tiny streamer-like pieces…She told herself to be patient. It had to settle into her system right? She was only after a few drinks, she would not overdo it. She didn't need to. She just needed to relax a little. Well, the shrill of the cell phone killed the chances of relaxation. Those people would not give up. They would track her, they would take her, and they would punish Arthur and Eames and everyone she cared about. The liquid mocked her. _You need another_. _I'll make you ok. I'll push all of those thoughts away. I'll stop the bells…_It was all too easy for her to give in and finish another glass. The burning sensation became a comforting distraction. The whiskey seemed to have gifted her with more bravery. She ignored her pursuers again.

Poured another glass. Glanced at the gun. If they wanted to barge in and take her, how long would it take? Even with the firearm, would she stand a chance? Every passing second, she held her breath…any second a shot could fire and she could be lying on the floor helpless. Any second they could blow the window open and carry her off kicking and screaming. And they wouldn't be lenient, especially after her deliberately sending them to voicemail. These people would be vicious. She was just waiting to be caught, expecting it really. Suspense took over the little bravery she'd gained. _You seem to have forgotten that first trip we paid you._ Another glass emptied.

Another glass poured. _You seem to have forgotten that first trip we paid you._ Another glass emptied.

She sniffled. Bells. Bells. Bells. _Say hello to Arthur and Eames for me. _She couldn't make them stop. _There's no avoiding us. _No amount of whiskey seemed powerful enough to drive these people away. _Say hello to Arthur and Eames._ Ariadne's hand dove for the bottle and drank straight from it. Gulp after gulp, until the only thoughts she possessed were screaming how much her throat was on fire and distracted the logical part of her brain while she ignored and pissed off those men yet again.

She finished the bottle and broke into the next. _You seem to have forgotten that first trip we paid you. _How could she forget? It had been the singular most terrifying fifteen minutes of her life thus far. And she thought they were mad then…that was before she went on the run, before she pulled herself from under their thumb. Drinking straight from the bottle as if her life depended it on it. In a primal manner, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and swiped her arm across the table, knocking the gun, the empty whiskey bottle and the cell phone onto the carpet. _That first trip. _She scrunched her sleeve up her right arm, vision becoming blurry and displayed her forearm on the table. She had to do it. She had to do it before the whiskey was out and she had no more extra courage. She located a barely visible scar, maneuvered her thumb across it as if searching for something and paused. With another swig of whiskey, she took hold of the knife.

The blade felt too cold against her skin. The point of the knife still hurt too much. She drank until more than half of the bottle was empty and tried again. She made a long slice up the outer edge of her forearm and dug a little bit. Ariadne was in tears; whether it was her drunken emotional state, the pain of the knife, or the sheer stress of her situation, she was bawling. Or maybe her vision was just blurry. Either the pain was unmanageably severe or the alcohol was making her nauseous and weak. Perhaps the familiar sound of bells was driving her insane or the room was really spinning and the stars had really fallen to the earth and chosen to swirl around her and exclusively her. She'd long ago left the knife forgotten somewhere on the floor.

Another swallow of whiskey. The cell phone wouldn't stop, _it wouldn't turn off_. Three rings, four rings…then she noticed the cell phone wasn't lit up. In fact, in her drunken stupor she must have smashed the cell phone to bits. The hotel phone was ringing. It'd been twenty minutes, Arthur was calling. Arthur…she couldn't talk to him right now. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle more guilt and more pressure and more of his overbearing nature. Another long swallow of her whiskey and Ariadne picked up and slammed the hotel phone on the hook, leaving bloody fingerprints to play on it. She finished the bottle and dug her nails a bit deeper into the cut on her arm. And either the pain was too much to handle in consciousness or she'd drank two whole bottles of whiskey faster than recommended.  
xxxxxx

Ariadne just loved to push Arthur's buttons…all the time. When she thought he was babying her because she was of the more delicate gender she usually did her best to defy him and show him she could do everything a man could do. She didn't need a hero. He was sure she viewed him as a misogynist but it was far from the truth. Just because he believed chivalry still lived and was very much alive in him, didn't mean he didn't have any respect for females. In fact, he had more respect for them than his companion, Mr. Eames. At least Arthur didn't objectify them at every chance. Or at all. It wasn't that he found her incapable of helping herself, it was just that he wanted so much to help her. Sometimes she could be so naïve and stubborn and those qualities would get her hurt. He felt much better if he took her safety upon his responsibilities because her arrogance and confidence would make her unsuspecting. So yes, she loved to push his buttons when she could and he did briefly consider if that's what she was doing. But this time something was really wrong, he could feel it. He could feel _her_. It was passed 3 rings and 4 rings before the phone picked up-just long enough for him to realize it had—and then slammed. He and Eames burst through the elevators and the forger fumbled with their room key. When the door swung open, Eames gasped, "Holy shit! Tiny!" and began running to the tiny woman's side before Arthur could get a visual.

Lying in the middle of the living area, Ariadne was bleeding out onto the carpet, unconscious. They observed the carelessly strewn handgun, the bloody knife, her destroyed cell phone and two empty bottles of whiskey.  
As they attended to The Architect, they overlooked the small, bloodied, tracking chip smashed to oblivion under the couch.

Xxxxxx

Reviewwwwwww pleeaseee. Anons too!


	9. My Kind of Town

As Greek and Roman tradition has it, I thank my reviewers/muses before I begin the chapter: _Guest, (other) Guest, Legal-Assassin-006, Chewi.x _(Oh and you're right! Papa and Maman are technically French for "Dad" and "Mom" but I have some friends whose family is French—they speak some—and they use it interchangeably. So I just pulled from that…), _kendertaunt, Feelthefreedom, ValeriaAnne, HelloJudy_ (well hello Judy aha…see what I did there?)

**Chapter- My Kind of Town**

Ariadne's eyes immediately squinted when the sunlight entered her retinas. Her head was pounding, the room felt off kilter and she was nauseous. She lifted her hand to cover her eyes and winced with the newfound pain: her bandaged forearm hurt like the dickens. At least she'd successfully fished the tracking chip out of her and could really get off the map now. Grunting, she rolled over to her side lazily to be met with Arthur's disapproving eyes staring at her from the chair in the corner of her room. _Uh oh_. Ariadne's eyes widened and despite the pain, she forced herself to roll back over to her back hastily to avoid him. Childishly, she believed she could pretend she hadn't woke. Unfortunately, she heard his voice—stern and austere as always- tell her, "Drink some water." Oh good…he was just there for her welfa— "Then we need to talk." Shithole.

Ariadne exhaled deeply and scrunched her face. With her good arm she pulled the covers over her head and willed him to go away and forget last night happened. "You need to rehydrate, Ariadne." Flat. Condescending.

Under her sheets she heard the muffled sound of the door hitting the wall and brushes along the carpet, "Do you stare at all girls like that when they sleep, Arthur? Or just the pretty little Architects that you care to stalk?"

Ahh. _Eames_. He would be more understanding. He would actually listen to her explanation for her actions instead of honing in on how stupid she was. And how she could've killed herself and all the _blah blah_ things Arthur would reprimand her about. Besides, the humidity her hot breath had created in its mingling under her comforter was starting to bother her. She removed the covers from her head and took in a breath of the cold fresh air. "Oh. You're up. Awkward…" He winked at the Point Man, "…for Arthur." The Point Man took his picking in stride.

Eames was a much more personable person. He was comfortable with anyone and an unbeliever of personal space. Arthur would never sit on the edge of her bed as Eames was now. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Like shit." She winced again at the light coming through the windows.

"Ahh, the beauty of hangovers…Well you should drink something-preferably not alcohol-we need you to get to feeling better so Arthur can interrogate you like a war criminal." She gave Eames a look. One he understood. She didn't want to talk to the Point Man about last night. They both knew he was going to be an unwavering pain in the ass about it all. He would surely make her feel guilty more than uncover actual information. Not intentionally, it was just the way Arthur handled things: Over-protectively, by the rule book and more so with Ariadne. Eames clicked his tongue sympathetically, Ariadne rolled to face the glass of water waiting on her bedside table and scowled. The forger pushed, "Don't make me start bouncing the bed up and down."

Slowly—and begrudgingly, mind you-, the Architect sat up and downed the glass of water along with two Tylenol that the Forger held out for her. He smiled, "I'll leave you two to it then." At the door, he stopped and took the silence as an opportunity to jab Arthur. "Try to keep the moans to a minimum, hmm?"

Arthur stood menacingly and Eames scurried out of the room, tittering. Once the annoyance was out of hearing distance, Arthur closed her door and sat back down in the chair across from her. She may have wearily leaned away, feeling like she was a kid in trouble. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "What happened?"

She shrugged, "I got drunk."

"You don't drink."

She avoided his eyes and ran her finger around the rim of the glass, "I've been through a lot."

Arthur shifted positions in his seat, "I know you enough to know that we didn't leave you in the emotional state we found you in. You _were_ nervous when I called you the first time, whether you tried to pretend you weren't or not. Did they come here?"

She shook her head no. "Did they call?" Ariadne's finger froze. Her gaze stayed fixed on the glass.

"That's why that phone was smashed. They've traced you. Do they know where we are? Which hotel?"

Her eyes finally dared to look into his and she replied by shaking her head. "Who are they, Ariadne? Why do they want you?" She took a swig of water and refused to answer him. The next question he asked because he knew he could get an answer out of it. She'd be too offended at the accusation and ready to cover up her attempt, to stay silent. "Why did you try to kill yourself?" He nodded to her arm.

"I didn't!"

"Were you planning on donating your blood to the blood bank then? I think you did it wrong." He was so monotone. So challenging. She'd always lose.

"If I wanted to kill myself, I would've done it with the gun you gave me…" Ariadne thought about the tracking chip she'd fished for in her arm and knew that Arthur would have a conniption. It would alarm him, raise the level of danger. He would start asking all kinds of questions. Ones she couldn't answer. As much as Arthur thought he was the one protecting her, Ariadne saw it the other way around. "I had to do it. You wouldn't understand."

"They put something in you, didn't they?"

Her stomach leapt to her throat. Did he find the smashed chip under the couch? "No—"

"That's how they could follow you so closely while Eames and I had to move mountains for any scrap of a clue…"

"Arthur, I took it care of it, ok? Stop worrying about it. It's none of your business!"

"I made it my business three weeks ago!" He looked to the door where he was sure The Brit was eavesdropping and lowered his voice, ashamed of being on the verge of losing his temper. She always did that to him. Something about this petite, brunette, art student that made it hard for him to control his mask. "You know how we found you last night? Bleeding everywhere, arm sliced open, limp and pale as a noodle. You have any idea how petrified we were?"

She folded her arms across her comforter and stared at the wall ahead. Ariadne wasn't about to be guilt-tripped. It was something she absolutely, positively, without a doubt or hesitation _had _to do. Well the drinking and the breakdown not so much…but unfortunately that was where she had taken herself to deal with her task. What the Point Man said next came as a shock. She was expecting more disappointment from him but-

"Let me help you… all formalities aside. Not as the Point Man or your bodyguard but as your friend, _as Arthur_." The Point Man leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "Just tell me everything and I'll do my best to make it better." He was no longer agitated or disgruntled or petulant. He was that man that rushed to her lawn chair on her first day. That held her wrist lightly, assured her she was ok, and slipped the needle out so effortlessly and smoothly that she felt no pain. Because she found her new fascination in his guarded brown eyes and she found a twinkle and a warmth in them she would later learn he was stingy with.

It almost changed her resolve. She almost let herself lay everything out on the table for him to examine._ But_ she almost endangered him too…so she held her tongue, sighed and chirped, "I wish I could."

Ariadne saw a flicker of something in his eyes…a flash of despondency. It'd gone as fast as it'd come and his face resumed it stony façade. He stood and prepared to leave her room. At the door he stopped, "Pack. We're leaving for Chicago in half an hour."  
xxxxxx

If someone had the means to call Ariadne, they knew where she was. They already had a mysterious cell phone placed in her possession... Arthur chose Chicago because it was a particularly easy city to get lost in. If they stayed in the city, and bought a suite in the hub, he was sure they'd be guaranteed a couple weeks before her pursuers (a) Pinned them down in Illinois and (b) did a thorough search of every hotel in the city…and by then they'd be long gone again.

To avoid the necessity of disguising her and because he hadn't had enough time to procure a fake id and passport for her in the thirty minutes and 53-now 54- seconds allotted (He knew he should've gone ahead and started on that when they arrived in Houston…) Arthur made the rash decision to drive to Chicago. He could pay the car rental company with cash and leave virtually no trail. Whoever was after her would definitely keep an eye on the airports in Texas…not so much on a black Lexus SUV on the interstate. Arthur drove, Eames in passenger, Ariadne and the few scraps of luggage had the backseat to themselves.

It was a long ride. She slept most of the time, every now and again Eames and Arthur would wake her up and ask her a question or two for their research. Eames was on an iPad with a constant connection to internet and that seemed to consume most of their time. There were a few moments she'd caught the Forger playing Catch the Bubble or Diner Dash instead of checking the stats like Arthur requested but she never said anything. They drove thru once and stocked up for the remainder of the drive. Ariadne often stared out the window and sketched in the periods where she didn't feel carsick. Every once in a while she'd glance down at her arm, unluckily always before she met Arthur's eyes in the rearview. Roughly, eighteen hours and twenty four minutes later they pulled into a Hilton Doubletree in none other than Chicago.

3am. After checking in, Arthur felt the need to buy out some of the staff and run them through security procedures. The trio of runaways could use some extra eyes around the building. As he did so, he sent Ariadne and Eames up to the top floor (Ariadne didn't think a penthouse could get any bigger than the previous one in Texas but she was proved wrong) to unpack, unwind…well those were his excuses. They all knew he just wanted to get Ariadne back in a closed off area where no one would be able to set eyes on her. Silently, she took the long elevator ride. Eames tried to crack jokes at her but she seemed unaffected by all his musings. The Forger figured she'd lighten up once she saw the "room" (more like apartment) that Arthur had procured for them…So when he opened the door and let her in, he turned to see her face. It was definitely more sophisticated than the one in Texas. Both her and Arthur's style. Sleek lines, borderless windows lined the kitchenette, contemporary furniture, blacks and white and accents of red. It had a futuristic quality to it aside from the white fur rug in the living area. Her eyebrows raised and one corner of her mouth upturned but quickly disappeared. He watched her claim a suite and set her stuff down. She'd left the door open so he could see her tracing the lines of the furniture, eyes downcast and deep in thought. She must still be stuck in the rut she had been in when they found her on the floor the night previous. The stress seemed to weigh down on her normally freely flying mind. The Ariadne he knew would be marveling at the architecture of the room they were in, looking out the window at the city, gushing about the lights excitedly and teasing him back.

It had been a _l o n g, uncomfortable, unpleasant_ drive… And that was the simple way of putting it. Arthur and Eames had asked her questions she didn't have the means to answer. It all got her wondering…why _do_ these people care so much? She kept thinking back on how she reacted to being contacted by them. She'd drunk herself into oblivion and woke up with a large cut down her arm, one that convinced Eames and Arthur that she was suicidal at this point. She only half remembered doing it…but she completely remembered what she'd woken up to: Arthur's _disappointed_ gaze. She must have looked so weak to them…you can't get respect by losing yourself in your troubles and resorting to such untactful ways of coping. Ariadne was embarrassed she'd acted so rashly, afraid they would find her even _more _unstable…give them another reason to coop her up and shield her from everything.

_This could only happen to a guy like me. And only happen in a town like this…._

Ariadne stopped her mindless picking at the drawer knobs and felt in her pocket for her chess piece. Reality…what? Her ears perked up involuntarily at the loud bellowing of Eames—

"_So may I say to each of you most gratefully as I throw each one of you-"_

Slowly Ariadne backtracked to the opening of her room. As she peeked around the corner warily, she met Eames' eyes as he stood waiting in the main room and turned to max the volume up on the stereo. _"A kiss…" _The Forger winked and kissed the air teasingly in her direction. _"This—"_

"Eames, what are you doing?"

"_Is…" _He ignored her, grabbing the tv remote and putting it to his lips, _"My kind of town Chicago, is."_

"Is this Frank Sinatra?" She furrows her eyebrows at the Forger, this sounded like something Arthur would rock out to, not Eames…then again, Arthur wouldn't rock out to anything…obvious Rat Pack enthusiast or not.

He ignored her still and started to step side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat, _"My kind of town Chicago is." _Amused, Ariadne stepped out into the main room towards Eames and lifted her eyebrow.

"_My kind of people too!"_

She couldn't help it. A smile was forcing its way onto her face as she stood there and listened to Eames sing louder and louder, trying (and failing) to compete with the infamous Sinatra.

"_People who," _Eames quickly did a grapevine to Ariadne's spot and stood over her. She narrowed her eyes, highly suspicious. He did nothing but poke her nose, _"Smile at you!"_

That was the moment she broke into laughter, his obnoxious singing so loud and faltering and full of humor that she couldn't resist. _"And each time I roam, Chicago is calling me home, Chicago is-" _he belted and carelessly threw the remote somewhere behind him. She heard the bang of it colliding with wood, but her eyes were only widened for a second before he pulled her against him and began dancing with her (albeit amaturely.) _"Why I just grin like a clown…It's my kind of town!"_

The Architect easily gave in and played along, giggling at his behavior. "My dad used to love Frank!" she half-yelled so he could hear her over the jazz instruments.

"So you know this song?"

"I might…" she coyly smirked at him.

He grinned cheekily, "Well we're _in _Chicago, Ariadne! What better place to sing it?"

Ariadne broke away from him as the instrumental break died down and fished the suite for the remote. Of course, Eames just thought she was being modest and hiding away, so when she popped up from behind the couch and began singing at the top of her lungs with Frank, "_MY kind of town Chicago is," _he died of laughter and pride.

She geekily danced around the edge of the room, _"MY kind of town CHICAGO is!"_

The Forger beamed. Alas, the spell had been broken and this lovely, cheerful beauty was back to herself._  
_xxxxxx

The second the elevator doors opened he heard the wailing sounds of trumpets and Sinatra. He could hear it in the two levels prior to theirs even closed into the tiny, traveling box. Ready to kill Eames, Arthur leaned against the now closed door and watched, his arms slowly folding over his chest.

xxxxxx

"_My kind of Razmatazz!" _As Eames joined back into the song with her, something in her felt giddy and she grabbed the curtain in front of the large wide window in the back of the main room (the kitchenette area) and ran to the other side with it, revealing the twinkling city lights and buildings across and below them. Laughing through the lyrics, she posed to advertise the view of the window much like Vana White, "_And it has all that jazz!" _

Overdramatically, Eames ran to the window with a feigned, longing sigh and hugged it, "_And each time I leave, Chicago is—"_which resulted in a fit of belly laughter from the Architect.

She danced to him and grabbed his suit sleeve, _"Tugging my sleeve, Chicago is,"_ pulling him through the kitchenette around to the area behind the sofa and in front of the island.

Ariadne hopped to sit on the island and began swinging her legs. Eames stood in front of her and began his sidestep/snapping move again as they sang together even louder than before because the finale of the song had to go out with a bang right? _"The Rigley Building, Chicago is!" _At this point Ariadne played the air trumpet, _"The Union Stockyard, Chicago is! One town that-"_

Eames picked her up off the counter, _"won't let you down,"_ and set her down on the floor to resume their hyperactive swing dancing and singing, _"It's MY KIND OF TOWN!" _they bellowed as Eames twirled her around and around.

The music cut off and all that could be heard was breathless laughter followed by slow loud claps behind them. "Bravo." Ariadne turned around and the smile ran from her face._  
_xxxxxx

"What are you two doing? It's 3 am and you're blasting this music through the hotel like you own it."

Arthur was met with silence and dejected looks that avoided his penetrating stare. Eames countered back first, "We own the whole floor..."

"Yes. But I'm sure your loud galloping can be heard below and the _last _thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves." Arthur looked coldly at Ariadne, "Close the curtain."

She shared a look with Eames, one that said 'Oh boy…we're in for it' and meekly (for a change) obeyed him. "Eames, you've been on the run plenty of times. You should know better. I don't know what the hell you were thinking, horsing around like that. You need to get your act together and start acting like a mature grown man."

Ariadne returned from the curtain and stepped in front of Eames, trying to simmer Arthur down, "He's just trying to lighten the mood…"

"This isn't a vacation. We aren't taking a world tour for the two of you to have fun. There are a slew of men waiting to rip you to shreds once they get their hands on you, Ariadne…or have you forgotten?"

She backed away, taking a deep breath and holding her hands up in surrender. Eames came to her rescue, "You're being too harsh."

"Am I? I'm trying to protect her and you do nothing but make jokes and screw everything up."

"Forgive me for trying to get her mind off of everything for a while…She walked in like a zombie."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "She needs to stay focused, sharp; the second she drops her guard-"

It was Eames' turn to roll his eyes, "Yeah-yeah, we know Point Man. But that can't be the only thing on her mind, she'll get too paranoid."

"No such thing as_ too_ paranoid when someone's after you." Arthur's monotonous tone cut through the air. Ariadne sat down and watched them bicker on.

"I'm not letting her drown in her situation. You remember the last time we left her alone with her thoughts? All that stress bearing down on her? We can't let her dwell on her problems and only her problems. If we do, we'll come back to something much worse than her drunken and bleeding on the floor."

Arthur swallowed at the memory, "That won't happen again."

"Why? Because you say it won't? Because you demand her not to? What are you going to do?" Eames challenged, "Put her on a leash?"

Arthur sneered, "I'll have to if I leave her with you again."

"You know…I _care about her_ a great deal…more than you give me credit for. I would make sure she not only stayed safe and hidden but that she enjoyed life too."

"You think you're so close to her just because you worked a few jobs with her? Because you shamelessly flirt and objectify her? Because you croak out old songs and she enjoys it?"

Eames suddenly sensed a shift in the tone of the conversation. A jealousy of what Eames would offer her. A jealousy of who she would most likely choose to go with, given the ultimatum. A jealousy of Eames' ability to make her laugh, make her feel happy in such a stressful scenario. Eames had no mercy on a coward who wouldn't show his feelings (whatever they be…) for the Architect so he dug further, "You're not the only one who visits Ariadne in your spare time, slick." The forger smirked victoriously.

The Point Man's face darkened (Eames swore the tips of his ears were green), "How often do yousee her?"

"Once or twice every couple months if I can manage it," He simpered (he's cruel and he knows it), "Which I always do."

Once or twice every other month? Arthur was lucky if he found an excuse to visit her every four or five months…and when he did, it had to do with work. He never just visited her. He was all business…but surely Eames took her out for ice cream, danced with her in her living room much like tonight and made her stomach ache with laughter. It wasn't fair that Eames could be that person for her. How come _Eames_ could make her smile and laugh and dance and sing? Why was it _Eames _of all people that lit her eyes; that got to connect with her? Arthur swallowed, Eames loving every second that passed by until Ariadne cleared her throat, "You know I'm right here, right?" They had forgotten she was even there, talked about her right in front of her. The boys looked at her.

He'd forgotten himself. He'd forgotten where he was, who he was with. He'd shown to much of an interest, too much of his opinion on Eames and Ariadne's friendship. He feared she had sensed the minute jealousy as easily as Eames had. Arthur blinked twice and excused himself from the room, "If either of you need anything, I'm two rooms down."

"That shut him up, didn't it?"

The Architect frowned at him. Suddenly seeming like the older one, the big sister. Getting on to him for evoking whatever showdown had just happened. It was slightly awkward in the room since Arthur left and Ariadne stayed silent for lack of not knowing what to say.

"I'm ordering room service, darling, do you want anything?"

"No…I think I'm going to head off too." She said in a faraway voice.

"You slept all the way here, you need more?"

"Nah, I'll probably just take a shower and lay down and watch tv or sketch or something…" her lighthearted mood had obviously been dampened by the stick in the mud (damn him.)

"Well I'm just outside your door; if you need anything, _your dear friend EAMES _is right here." Eames said loud enough so Arthur would hear through his door.  
xxxxxx

Thanks for reading! It's as easy to press the review button as it is to press the update button :) Our Ariadne and Arthur are a mess, aren't they? Here Ariadne is afraid to be more personal with Arthur because she thinks he'll disapprove and reprimand her and there Arthur is wanting her to be more personal with him like she is with Eames.

I just wanna be like *now kiss* hahaha. I promise at least some form of that ice shall be broken next chapter.


	10. You're Ok

Big thank you's to my alerters and huge thanks and I love you's to my reviewers! _Legal-Assassin-006, nowarning23, PrincessLove123, Dryad Warrior Queen, FeeltheFreedom, Ahh (Guest), Lazarus76 _annnnnnd _stacierebekah. _

You're all awesome. A lot of stuff happens this chapter! It's like 4000 words long so bear with me…

_**7/19 UPDATED** **A/N:**_ Ok so I went back an read over this chapter and I'm so sorry. I do know the difference between their, they're and there and too and to...Normally if I realize I've made one or two errors, I leave it be. But there are like a million in this chapter because I wrote it in a deep state of tiredness. Also, I'm clearing up the whole Arsenic issue. Thank you to some tips from PrincessLove123 I believe and I also did some more research this morning on arsenic and found that scene impossible to suspend belief if you know more than I did when I wrote it. But I've found a substance that works perfect. :) Also, expect a new chapter tonight :) _Love PrettyPrettyPlease _

**Chapter 10- You're Ok.**

She was the last one up per usual. Eames and Arthur were already sitting at the island, one hiding behind a newspaper and the other glued to his laptop. She sat with a piece of toast—pre-prepared by the Point- and her sketchbook on the other side of Arthur tentatively. The Point Man kept his eyes on his screen while he greeted her good morning and at the sound of his voice actually speaking to someone, Eames lowered the paper to find Ariadne. He gave her a smile and a wink for her morning greeting and she silently smiled back. Next she addressed the man behind the laptop, "I'm sorry for acting like an idiot last night."

Eames shoved his paper back down to scoff at her and give her a look for _apologizing _to the jerk. She sent him back a look to keep his mouth shut and quickly met the brown eyes that were now fixed upon her. "I'm sorry for treating you like one." His eyes softened in the slightest and she found herself admiring them before he turned back to his computer. A silent forgiveness on both their parts.

Suddenly she longed for the comfortableness they shared before this all happened. The ease they had between them at the café, working together…She missed when he would treat her like an equal, when he would ask her opinion instead of ordering her around. She missed the miniscule sense of humor she had begun to instill in him, the playfulness she was just discovering on the last job she helped him on. The look in his eyes at that park, when he—a blush colored her cheeks and she darted her eyes to Eames. Thankfully he was back behind his newspaper (God Bless the Chicago Daily), so she decided to stop mulling over Arthur in her thoughts and with her eyes and start sketching.

That night Arthur went down to the hotel convenience store and picked up a pint of ice cream for her to enjoy to rival the mundane food she'd been eating...an extra apology Eames would call it; Arthur would deny it. The next few days went by rather slow for Ariadne—which should be comforting for her—but it wasn't. She tried to keep her mind occupied…sometimes when Arthur would leave to do whatever he did…she would sneak and open the curtain to look at the city. Give herself something else to explore with her eyes and sketch. From their window, she could spot the famous Chicago spire and had drawn many a variation of it. And there was just something about the Chicago River and the way it seamlessly fell into step with the pace of the city that she found mesmerizing. She mused that it was the American equivalent of Venice. The Architect could always count on the skylines being blue. Morning, afternoon and night…all various shades of blue reflecting off the buildings and shooting into the sky. No matter the weather, no matter the clouds or the colors of the sunrise and sunset trying to squeeze through. Light periwinkles, bright sky blues, cerulean blues, indigos…purple blues and green blues and _blue_ blues. Ariadne saw everything when she sat against the window and explored the city with her eyes. Only once, did she not realize a pair of binoculars looking up at the girl in the pent house.  
xxxxxx

"Ariadne."

Someone was shaking her.

"Ariadne."

Begrudgingly, her eyes opened.  
Arthur was kneeling in front of her bed, benevolently shaking her shoulder. His words hadn't registered in her haziness but the look of uncharacteristic panic in his eyes did. "Ariadne."

"What?" She forced her vocal chords to sound. Briefly her eyes grazed over the blurry red numbers on her clock that read 3:22. She felt like bags of sand had taken residence in her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to drop back down on the pillow and sleep and sleep and sle-

She could tell he tried to speak calmly, "One of my ins in the hotel called the room. Suited men are searching every floor for us."

Ariadne sat up, fully awake—thank you adrenaline- and threw the covers off to get out of bed, "Tell me what to do."

She searched the floor for her sling and new backpack, something Arthur caught on to. "All of our stuff is with Eames. We have to go out one of the windows and climb the fire escape to the roof. Life Flight is waiting on us."

"Life Flight?" She stretched her strides to keep up with him.

Arthur showed her his shoulder. His button up was drenched in blood down his sleeve. She gasped, "What happened?"

He carefully laid his hand on the small of her back and guided her out to the window they would need to climb through, "Needed an excuse for Life Flight to come." Hastily, his fingers worked to unlatch the window in what was Eames' suite and gestured for her to go out. The top half of her body was out of sight when she came back in the window and collided with Arthur. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"My passport and that backstory you printed out…"she pushed passed him and retraced her steps, "I was looking through it last night, it's in the drawer of my bedside ta-"

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Several fists were heard pounding on the door to their suite. Ariadne froze in her tracks; her eyes like a deer in the headlights, she gaped at Arthur. His comforting hand was then back on the small of her back, pushing her back into Eames' suite. "Go up, I'll get it."

He disappeared before she could protest, so she did as told and braved the wind (they didn't call it the windy city for nothing). Once her head was out, she registered the cold, heavy drops of rain that had begun to fall. Below her she heard the sound of a door slamming open and sucked in a breath. _Arthur_; she had to keep chanting a 'don't look down' mantra to make it to the top, where Eames was waiting to help her inside the chopper. Then it dawned on her…how would Arthur climb up the escape with a bullet in his shoulder? It was all happening so fast and before she could even complete that thought, Eames was climbing in beside her and buckling, telling the pilot to head out.

"What are you doing?" She heard herself ask Eames but didn't believe her mouth had been moving.

He yelled over the propellers beginning to whirl, "He said if he wasn't three minutes behind you to get you out so that's what I'm doing."

Had it already been three minutes? He probably couldn't find it (she would curse herself for not being a more organized person later), it was probably kicked under the bed or something completely irresponsible…Her irresponsibility had killed Arthur. Her laziness had hurt Arthur… "No, we have to wait for him. He was right behind me!"

"Sorry love; we can't take the chance, they're on our tails." She couldn't hear anything over the chopper to give her a clue what was happening below. Was glass shattering? Were guns firing? Were men yelling? She unbuckled herself and bravely hopped out of the copter. It wasn't too far off the ground but when she landed she had fallen and rolled. Eames yelled at the pilot to land and followed her suit before it could reach the bottom again. He chased her through the rain and grabbed her arm, "What are you doing?"

"He can't find my passport! I've got to help him!" The Forger gave her credit. She had tried to pull away from his grasp. In fact, she wrenched her arm away so hard he feared his grip might pull her arm out of socket.

"No, you've got to get on that damn helicopter!"

He held her in her place with the strength of his forearm and his eyes, telling her that her help would be futile now. Ariadne's breathing was quickening, "He can't find it, Eames." Was the sentence she settled on. She wouldn't say Arthur was in danger, she wouldn't say Arthur needed help, Arthur was trapped…she could only bring herself to utter, "Eames, _he can't find it._" They both hoped with everything they had that that was the only thing holding Arthur up. The rain was falling harder now, rapid, soaking them through to the bone. Sweetly, the Forger coaxed her back to the copter, had her sit down and re-buckle. He lied to her and told her she needed to be ready to take off once Arthur arrived but he knew he wasn't coming. As soon as her bottom hit the metal and her seatbelt clicked he told the pilot to go. She panicked, "No!" She yelled at the pilot, "We can't leave him!" She turned to Eames, betrayed, "You said we'd wait!"

"Ariadne, he's not coming." The forger patted her shoulder.

Ariadne shrugged it off and resumed her pleading to the pilot, "Just two more minutes! Just wait two more minutes!" She turned back to Eames, her brown pools wild with fire, her face contorted into a worry he'd never seen, "_Please."_

Eames gritted his teeth. "Only if you stay buckled." If it would make her feel better, they might could afford two more minutes…a minute and thirty seconds maybe. Just a minute. Just for Arthur. He asked the pilot to re-land for a moment but his hand was on the control stick, ready at a millisecond's notice. (Good thing they paid off this sucker, he was sure this was strange behavior for the sky ambulance. They'd taken off and landed again several times.) The Architect's eyes were glued to the top of the escape and her thumbs were fidgeting, her feet tapping. "Love, if you bite your lip any harder you might bleed all over the place."

She sat up straighter, her ears perked, her eyes pierced and she stopped all movement. Eames followed her gaze to the top of the escape and saw a man's hand grab at the top. Knowing Ariadne, she immediately thought it was Arthur. She immediately expected to see gelled hair and his determined eyes next but it would just as easily be the gelled hair and determined eyes of the men set on taking her down at whatever cost.

"Go, Boy! Take off!" Eames commanded and the helicopter began lifting off the ground slowly.  
xxxxxx

She held her breath and sure enough, the man that pulled himself up so swiftly was none other than their suited Point Man. She watched him sprint as the helicopter lifted higher and higher…"We're too high for him! What are you doing, Eames? Go back down!" He ignored her but they felt a jolt down on the left side of the copter. Arthur pulled himself onto the landing bar and jumped into the helicopter just as it was getting high enough to fly off. He sat down like lightning across from them, buckled his seatbelt and leant back to close his eyes and slow his breathing.

If any feeling resembling relief rushed through her it didn't show. She reached frantically for her buckle but Eames' hand grabbed her wrist. "He's here. You leave that buckle alone until we're on solid turf." She obeyed and leaned back against her seat but her thumbs began fidgeting again and Eames couldn't for the life of him understand why. She was fretting over the Point Man making it and he made it. Therefore, there should be no more remnants of an anxiety attack. Since they paid the hospital's helicopter out when the pilot arrived, Arthur wouldn't need to be seen to the emergency room (not that he needed to anyway, but that is what Life Flight was for and how they convinced them to come initially) and they would head straight outside, hotwire a car and get on the road to Indiana. The first airport they saw they would use to head out of the country. This was all discussed between the two men on the eight minute flight to the roof of Chicago's main hospital.

The helicopter hit the pavement and Ariadne's buckle seemed to have undone itself on its own in record time. Before Arthur could reach for his, Ariadne's arms were around his neck and she was hugging him like her life depended on it. (It had just depended on him, anyway.) It stunned him…Not really thinking, he unbuckled his so he could stand and instead of nipping it in the bud…he returned her embrace; he felt her breaths slow and her body relax once his arms had found their way around her as well. They were both damp from the rain but he could feel her body heat. He could feel everywhere their bodies touched no matter how slight. _She was the perfect fit for him._ His muscles jerked in their start to pull away when she turned her head into him and he felt the tip of her nose on his neck. _Just a few more seconds._ He felt her hot breaths turn cold as they hit the drops of water there. He was freezing and burning simultaneously. They stayed like that for a minute before he forced himself to pry her off, "We don't have time for sentimentality, right now."  
xxxxxx

Eames floored the gas of the cab while Arthur tended to his self-inflicted gunshot wound. The three and a half hour drive it should've taken to reach Indianapolis International Airport dwindled down to two. They'd already bought tickets to Manila, Philippines online under Arthur's alias Mr. Levitt. Eames would use his passport name, Mr. Hardy and Ariadne would use the passport Arthur so painstakingly retrieved for her, to pass as Ms. Page.

There were barely any words passed between the three except to quiz each other on their backstories and go over back up plans. Eames could see the conflict running through Arthur each time he looked at the Architect. Since their little hugging scene he'd kept a considerable amount of distance from the girl. They rushed Ariadne through the airport, shoving a zip up hoodie on her and putting all of her hair in a baseball cap. Arthur put her backpack through with his stuff and Eames put her sling with his so her only need was to take her shoes off to be through the long line. They just made it in time for the last call to board their flight. Eames and Ariadne sat in row 12 in coach, Arthur right ahead in 11. Eames suggested that Ariadne laid her head against the window and get some sleep, not only for rest but so she could cover her face. He and Arthur sat poised, analyzing every man or woman to walk the aisles, Eames' hand protectively rested on her back.

Xxxxxx

The hotel lobby was vast. With boutiques, restaurants, bars…you name it. As always, Arthur walked up to the front desk and fabricated information to reserve a room. Ariadne and Eames inconspicuously kept their heads ducked and walked around the lobby to keep from catching to much attention. The soaking wet—mafia looking—Point Man with fresh bruises on his face was suspicious enough. "Eames, I'm thirsty."

"You can't wait til we get in the room? I'm sure we'll have a mini bar."

She shrugged, "I guess I could—My throat just hurts."

Eames squinted and tried to make eye contact with Arthur. Upon succeeding, he made a motion to portray drinking and pointed to Ari. After an allowing nod, he walked the Architect to the nearby bar. She scurried in and plopped at a stool; Eames sauntered behind and slid onto the seat next to her. "You look tired…" He heard the bartender muse. He looked every bit the Filipino but spoke English perfectly.

"Yeah—long flight."

"What's your name?"

"A—"she caught herself and looked at Eames in her peripheral vision, "Ashley."

He hummed, "What to drink?"

"Just Sprite, please."

The Bartender's eyebrows shot up and he gave her a funny look. He simpered, "Listen, Ashley…I get off my shift in ten minutes—"

Eames intervened with a menacing glower, "How about you just get that drink, hm?"

Suspecting that Eames was only another customer and wanted him to hurry up so he himself could order, the Bartender rolled his eyes and turned to complete her order. When he spun back around he gave her a smile that made her feel uncomfortable. The Forger put his arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the bar, suggesting that she take the drink with her and get away from the creep.  
xxxxxx

Safely tucked away in a hotel room in Manila, they finally relaxed. This wasn't as big as the others but the game plan had changed. They wouldn't stay anywhere more than a week at the most. Eames asked Ariadne if she was ok before he exhaustedly rubbed his poker chips together and announced his shower to the world (He also made them both promise not to peek...as if there was any desire to.) Arthur had already rolled his die and was doing a check list of the PASIV's contents and doing inventory of he and Eames' firearms and ammunition. He would have to start on preparing new passports, aliases and backstories by morning.

Ariadne hadn't put her stuff in her room yet. She must've figured if she left everything packed in her bags and by the door that there would be little chance of losing something Arthur would have to find and risk another pummeling for. The Architect chewed on her lip as she watched his nimble hands disassemble the firearms, count out magazines and briskly organize everything into one of the duffels. She wasn't one to lack courage but when it came to confronting the Point Man about_ feelings_ —he did something to her. His satiny brown eyes made her feel like an eleven year old again. "Arthur?"

"Yes?" He replied without pause in his apparent machine operated process.

"Are you upset with me? Because I misplaced my passport?"

The rare hint of insecurity in her voice is what made his assembly line halt. Then he pivoted to discuss the matter with her. It wasn't polite to talk about such matters with your back to someone. "No. No, I'm not mad at you."

"You've been avoiding me like the plague since we left the Chicago hospital."

So she'd noticed…that wouldn't do. He straightened his suit and leant against the table, "Actually I've been avoiding Eames…I didn't want to get into another fight with him so it was necessary to keep my distance."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "What did he do?"

"Put you in further danger. He shouldn't have waited. I specifically told him not to."

"No, Eames had it off the ground as soon as he pulled me on the copter. _I _asked them to wait."

Arthur sighed, "Ariadne, I could've been any one of those men."

"But it wasn't, it was _you_."

The Point Man crossed his arms and gave her _that _look.

"You would've done it for me." She defended.

"That's different."

"How?"

He paused. Unsure. Technically it would've been no different. Either Ariadne would've gotten on the helicopter with him or it wouldn't go anywhere. Then he remembered the way she hugged him when they landed, how scared she seemed and not for herself. Like she'd heard his thoughts she ploughed through the room with her words, "Either I would've gotten on the copter with you or you wouldn't have left. Am I not allowed to show you the same courtesy?"

"Next time, please don't wait. Neither of us may be that lucky again." He turned back around to his inventory.

At that point, Eames was strutting out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and one twisted on his head. As he passed through to get to his room he commented, "Uh-oh. I guess someone told Arthur that she jumped out of the chopper for him."

"You what?" He whipped around.

Ariadne shot Eames a glare and he mouthed an oops before he hauled butt to his room. She grimaced when she looked Arthur in the eyes again, "To be fair, it was barely two feet off the ground…"

"Why would you do that?" His look was a cross between bewildered and angry.

"Why do you think?"

"You can't do things like that, Ariadne." The Point's palms rubbed his face.

Ariadne chided, "Technically, I _can_. You just don't _want_ me to."

"When Eames and I tell you to do something, it's because we've painstakingly formulated a plan that's in your best interest."

"Why _my _best interest?" Her voice was rising, "Why not _everyone's _best interest?"

It was happening again. They were butting heads. "Because Eames and I aren't the ones in danger.

"That's what you think," she grumbled.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She stuttered then-fit to be tied—replied, "It means I'm not the only one that matters!"

Arthur's eyes widened and he stepped closer, peering at her, scrutinizing. "What?" She looked down at herself and seeing everything normal looked back up at him.

He was standing over her now, "Your nose is bleeding." The reaction he got was one he didn't want. He wanted her to realize and then shrug it off. He wanted her to treat it like it was normal, to say that it was allergies, it happened all the time. But she put her hand to her face just under her nostril and when she saw the blood for herself she was shocked. As if she'd never seen blood from her nose before. It confirmed that this wasn't typical. Swiftly he grabbed a hand towel and held it to her head, let her take it from him. He took her shoulders and guided her back to the couch, "Sit. Put your head back." She obeyed with a confused look. "Did you hit your head when you jumped?"

"N-No…"

Ariadne was staring at the ceiling but heard the disbelief in the way he drug out her name, "Ariadne…"

"I didn't! I swear."

A beat of silence passed. Than a rush of words bombarded her, "What did that man give you to drink?" Now it was hot as hades and she felt herself start to perspire. Sparkles were appearing on the ceiling while she tried to concentrate for Arthur, "Just—just Sprite."

"And you watched him make it?"

Her hesitance was enough. He rushed to the sink and fished out her half empty glass of Sprite. The bubbles had fizzled away and it was flat and lifeless. He ran his finger around the rim, rubbed them together and then smelt them. He dipped a finger in, placed it on his tongue to taste, and then spit it back out. "It's sweet." The Point Man found the kit Yusuf had given him; it included an InChI: International Chemical Identifier. Eames came out of his room newly clad in his pajama set and was alarmed at the scene he'd stepped into. Ever serious, he gaited to sit by her on the couch and started asking questions. Arthur told him to take his gun and go check the lobby for the faceless corporation after her.

Using the dropper, Arthur took a sample of the Sprite and waited for the identifier to make heads or tails of it. It took several seconds before it beeped. "Propylene Glycol...shit. That's antifreeze."

Her head shot forward, causing more stars to erupt into her vision, "What!"

"Head back." He ordered, grabbed a zipped case from out of the duffel and went to kneel in front of her. "You're ok." Eames had just slipped out the door when-"Arthur.." Ariadne had started blinking faster and coughing.

He rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort for a brief second, "You're ok. I have a stash of compounds and antidotes from Yusuf. The taste wasn't strong enough, they couldn't have put enough in to do too much damage."

"Arthur," she panicked—still holding her head back-, "I can't see anymore." Ariadne felt his calloused hand run down her arm and squeeze her wrist, "It's ok, I promise." Her breathing picked up and a minor convulsion ran through her. "Arthur!"

"You're fine; it's going to be fine." He soothed and a piercing pain entered her arm. The needle she guessed. There was a faint rubbing of his thumb in circles on her wrist. The ceiling was all she could see, well barely, her vision had long ago gotten too fuzzy to make out anything. But she heard the door swing open, she heard Eames yell at Arthur with urgency, felt someone place their arms under her knees and behind her back. They started to lift her when the world went black.  
xxxxxx

Thanks for reading!


	11. Too Much Air

Hi! So… **CHAPTER 10 Change: **I went back and tweaked it. Because when I reread it this morning I found so many errors. I swear I know the difference between they're and their and too and to, guys. Also it was brought to my attention that Arsenic is flavorless/odorless (go figure. Glad I had him both smell and taste it…) and it bothered the crap out of me all day that my details were off, so I reworked that section. I went and did some research and found that Propylene Glycol would be a perfect toxin for her side effects and tastes super sweet like mountain dew…so awesome! Also, I added the use of the IChI, which is real and made more sense for Arthur to identify the chemical and be able to find an antidote than by mere taste. (He's a Point but not superhuman.) So that's that. Oh! And I added an extra little rubbing of her wrists by Artie 'cause I just couldn't resist. Hahaha.

And **the important part**…thanking my reviewers and alerters! Holla at _PrincessLove123 _(Can I just say, I love your enthusiasm for FTR? Thank you so much for r&r-ing!)_, origamifoxes _(I remember you from Say It! Hello old friend!), _Feelthefreedom, .85, Legal-Assassin-006, Dryad Warrior Queen, kendertaunt, Sins of Today, Guest _and _Ahh! _

**Chapter 11- Too Much Air**

She woke with a start. Ears felt muted, a sharp pain pierced through them from deep in her ear canal. She was twisted uncomfortably on her shoulder and looking at her was a red-headed man in his late thirties clad in a navy blue suit. Ariadne panicked-as should be expected when you wake up on an airplane next to a stranger in a suit. Naturally, she gasped and leaned away from him only to feel a hand clamp down on her shoulder from the seat on her other side. She whipped her head around with broadened eyes to meet tranquil almond ones. "I'm right here. Calm down."

"Where's Eames?" She queried.

"Two rows back. Glad to see the antidote worked."

She ambushed him with more questions. _Always with the questions._ "Did I pass out? Did they follow us to Manila?"

"Yes, you lost consciousness. And yes; not many of them though. They weren't expecting you to have company. We got around them easily." She mellowed after that statement and relaxed in her chair. Briefly she held her nose and popped her ears to alleviate the pressure and so she could hear Arthur's voice without muffle. The flight attendant passed by, her eyes grazing over their row and their row only. "Duck your head."

Ariadne obeyed but watched the woman through her peripheral vision. Arthur leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I don't trust her. She's been too interested in our row since we boarded." The Architect couldn't help herself. Her curiosity was ferocious and so she turned her head and looked the woman over. She studied her face, her body language…and she recognized all of the symptoms. She started snickering while she righted herself back in her seat, "I don't think we have to worry too much about her, Arthur. She's not interested in killing me."

"Her eyes have been glued to us."

Ariadne's laughter bubbled again, "Because she's a woman." Arthur turned his head and squinted in confusion. Ariadne just rolled her eyes at him, "She's just helpless to your good looks like the rest of us." When The Point's eyebrows shot up and the beginnings of a cocky smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, she realized what she'd just said.

He shouldn't have but he enjoyed how fast her snarky composure turned flustered. It wasn't so much her comment but the way the blush crept up her neck and sprinkled across her cheeks. "When I said 'us' I wasn't including my-myself." She stammered.

He nodded, "Ok, sure."

"No, I'm serious." She insisted, "I was making a sweeping generalization of females."

He cleared his throat, fought back the simper and looked forward, "No I understand. You think I'm unattractive."

Great. Now she felt guilty, "Well…I never said you were _un-_attractive. I mean you're a _very _at—a—appealing man. You can find someone attractive but not be attracted to them…You know?" She scratched the back of her head and feigned interest in the overhead compartments across the aisle. The heat in her face was getting painful. "Maybe you should, um, switch with Eames?"

"No thank you, I'm comfortable."

_That makes one of us…_"You don't look like you have enough leg room." She looked at his feet and then braved meeting his eyes. And there was that twinkle in his eye…one she saw let loose only twice before. "I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of my good looks."

Ariadne scowled at him but couldn't keep from accepting the situation and smiling down at her hands in her lap. She quipped, "Yeah, it was worth a shot…"  
xxxxxx

They had flown out to Brazil and could confirm the whereabouts of her pursuers: tearing the United States apart looking for her. For this reason, they decided to stay put for the time being and Arthur upgraded their room to the penthouse.

Ariadne lost track of time. She got tired, she got hungry but nothing much else happened. Sure being on the run had its exhilarating and chaotic moments but on the whole it could be so mundane. Funny, when she pictured the life of a fugitive-the life of a dreamsharing pioneer on the run- she romanticized it to its full extent. Flying by the seat of her pants, seeing the world, gun fights, stealing motorcycles, stowing away on cruises…instead she was sitting in a hotel room, counting the specks on the ceiling and listening to the sound of Arthur's keyboard. It was more thrilling on her own. She wouldn't forget the inexorable fear she felt all that time but at least her adrenaline had a chance to pump. She wondered what it would be like had Arthur not come for her. Maybe if it had just been Eames they _would _be stealing motorcycles, backpacking through the hills of Greece or something. At this rate, the hallways outside of their hotel room held the same appeal and mystery of the castles in Ireland because Ariadne was rarely allowed to see outside that door.

A full recuperation brought Ariadne's curiosity and fiery courage back. It was 2:17am the first time she had those rebellious thoughts. She was tossing and turning and decided a cold glass of milk would do the trick. Arthur and Eames were tucked away in their respective rooms and a room key (probably Eames') was gleaming at her on the coffee table. After a lingering look at the light seeping through the cracks of Arthur's door…she swiped the key card, pulled on her hoodie and slipped out into the beautiful unknown. She went a floor down and wondered through the hallways. It was eerily quiet and she wondered if she shouldn't have swiped one of their guns as well. There was a red 'To the Roof' sign that piqued her interest and once Ariadne's interest was piqued it never settled. She looked around behind her, put the hood over her head and pushed herself against the door. Tonight, she would explore.  
xxxxxx

She expected to feel refreshing cool air hit her face as she stepped onto the roof but Brazil's weather was warm and bordering humid that night. Still, the feeling of freedom was unparalleled to anything she'd felt in a while. It made her beam. She walked around for what felt like forever but had only amounted to five minutes. A quick glance at her watch made her heart jump and run back to their suite. Thankfully, the light through Arthur's door was just as she left it. After thanking the deities, she put the key back on the table and slipped back into her room.

Her exploration affected her the next morning. She perkily greeted Eames and Arthur and was uncharacteristically malleable. Arthur welcomed it with open arms but Eames was skeptical. It didn't help that the next night she decided to sneak out to the roof again. This time for fifteen minutes. This time she traced the protective fence around the edge with her finger, found the ledge around the greenery the owners had planted but not taken care of and balanced along it like a balance beam. She found the roof to be the place she could air out her thoughts about the situation and the people following her where the feelings would float away into the atmosphere. They didn't get trapped by a stuffy ceiling and bounce back into her brain, they fell into step with her thoughts about the stars. For this reason, she visited the roof the next night as well. Ariadne brought her sketchbook and drew the faraway outline of the buildings. Arthur stayed oblivious to it all, just content that Ariadne happened to go along with his procedures without a hitch. Eames, though, got more suspicious every night.

Eames went to bed early and turned the volume on his tv down for one purpose and one purpose alone: To hear Ariadne's door swivel open, hear her feet pattering and to follow her to her secret hiding place. "There you are, birdy!"

The figure on the ground jumped at his voice and pivoted to face him. "Eames!" Her eyes were wide and she had stood, beginning to brush off her shorts.

"Is this where you've been sneaking off to every night? To be alone on the roof? I thought you were finally getting some…"

"Eames!" This time her voice was scolding. The only sound for minutes was the breeze that kissed their faces in intervals. "Don't tell Arthur."

Eames laughed, "Darling, I live to undermine Arthur's rules. I think it's abominable the way he locks a pretty young thing like you away from all sunlight. Your secret is safe with me."

He couldn't tell for sure (his eyesight in the dark is only getting worse) but he caught a glimmer in her eye and the showing of some teeth. "What do you do up here?"

"Mmm, you know…" She sat back down and patted a familiar comforter spread on the rooftop, "…sketch, think, observe…tonight I'm counting the stars."

Eames joined her (naturally), picked at his teeth, "What number are you up to?" He looked up as well.

"Seventy-Four. Until you messed me up, Forger," Ariadne bumped his shoulder with hers playfully.

He bumped her back, "Architect."

"Sleezeball."

"Porcelain."

"You wound me." She fell back on the comforter and clutched her heart.

Eames mocked sarcastically, "Call the medics! Call the President! Call the Queen of England! Ariadne's outside! It's killing her!"

"The sky is falling!" She laughed from her spot, the both of them poking fun at the Point Man.

"Quick get an oxygen mask, she's breathing contaminated air!"

Ariadne pretended to choke and grasp her throat, "There's so much…air…out here…Arthur, I see the light-"

"No, Ariadne!" Eames grasped her arm, "You can't. Don't leave me! I lov—"

"Ok playtime's over." Ariadne sat up and pushed Eames away. (Her cheeks were painted red and she'd be stupid to fool herself into thinking dear old Eames wouldn't catch it.) He had made it intensely awkward for the young woman…and admittedly after a while of her fingering the comforter and pretending to count the stars again, he felt bad and wanted to make up for it. "You could win an Oscar. That was a very believable near-death performance. Best Actress." His smile was smug.

Her gaze came down from the skies and rested on him with a smirk, "_Aww_. You could be nominated for Best Supporting Actor."

He scoffed, offended, "_Nominated? _Need I remind you, I'm a forger? Acting is my livelihood."

"It was a little shaky," She shrugged her shoulders, "the British accent shattered the illusion."

"Damn it all." His tongue clicked dejectedly. "It was an honor to be considered by the Academy, I suppose." In a wordless agreement, they decided it had been long enough and they needed to get back to suite. The next day Eames' made a habit of coughing and grabbing his throat, claiming there was too much air as an inside joke.  
xxxxxx

Knowing she only had to evade one person instead of two for her blissful time on the roof made things much easier for Ariadne. Then again, it also made her more careless. That night she had stayed on the roof for hours and hours on end. When she came back it was nearly five am and Arthur had been up to make coffee when she skipped through the door. She didn't notice until she went to place Eames' key card on the last place he left it: the coffee table. The coffee table in front of the sofa that the suited man was perched on in the darkness. Arthur blew on his coffee, "You've been somewhere." It wasn't a question. It was a fact.

"I-uh-"

"Makes sense." He crossed his leg over the other, "You've been too agreeable to everything, I should've known."

She swayed on her feet, her mind reverting back to the feeling of standing in the Principal's office. "Where have you been going?" His tone was conversational; it made her feel at ease. Ready to answer. "The roof," she let herself smile, "You can see the stars reall—"

Ariadne never figured out why she opened her mouth. Why she didn't just lie to him and tell him she was getting ice or something. Something other than exploring the hotel alone in the middle of the night and climbing to the roof… "Ariadne, anyone can grab you up there."

"Anyone can grab me anywhere." Fell out of her mouth before she could realize she was agitated with him for changing his aura on her so fast. For teasing her with the hope that he'd be ok with her needing to get out, for making her think he might go up with her one night. (Though he never alluded to that in the least but her mind travelled fast.) Why did she always let herself think she could share things like that with Arthur? Moments like she shared with Eames. Whatever playful, laid back moment they'd shared on the airplane was short-lived. A fluke, clearly.

"I know—and we've been lucky-they haven't traced us here yet but that doesn't mean it's safe for you to freely roam the hotel without my consent."

Her arms folded themselves across her chest, "Your _consent_?" Eames had now stepped out into the main room after hearing voices and suspecting Ariadne's hand had been caught in the cookie jar.

"Yes." He set his coffee down and stood to tower over her even though the coffee table was between them. "You didn't even ask me if you could have time alone up there, you just went."

Mocking his stance and his wording, "Yes. Because I'm my own person and I don't need your permission."

"However, you do need my advice and my protection. I'm looking after you. Therefore you, in fact, _do_ need my permission—my professional opinion. And my professional opinion thinks it's asinine for you to value your boredom over your life."

Facetiously, Ariadne replied before retiring to her room, "Well as always, you _must_ be right. If you'll _allow me_, I'd like take my asinine self to my room and mull over how you can be such a gracious and humble person."

She stalked off before Arthur could open his mouth. Eames rolled his eyes; they cared too much about the other to go a day without fighting. They just didn't realize it yet.

Xxxxxx

We're building up to a blow up guys…it shan't be too pretty but it'll peel some layers away and show some more of A/A's feelings toward the other… Thank you so much for reading! Please review and I shall try to update soon!


	12. Find You

Hola, glad to see you guys like where this is headed! We've got another eventful chapter here…so let me get to thanking my reviewers and alerters: _Feelthefreedom, .85, Dryad Warrior Queen, Legal-Assassin-006, yue1113, ValeriaAnne, Ahh (Guest), , idgetsleazy4georgeweasley _(great name ahahaha), _Deezy23 _and _PrincessLove123. _

Ariadne and Arthur love you guys. Oh, and me too. ;)

**Chapter 12- Find You. **(My personal favorite chapter thus far…)

In Ariadne's contumacious nature, she couldn't accept the fact that she was being corralled like a farm animal. Her viewpoint on gender equality also sneered at the fact that Arthur was a man and so saw himself fit to order her around. That night, she didn't submit and ask for permission. She just left as she usually did and went to the roof. In fact, just to prove a point, she took her pillow up and slept on the roof under the stars. You can imagine that Arthur was _livid_. He got up at 4am because he suspected that as her scheduled time of deviant behavior. He knocked on her door a few times, at no answer be barged in. No Ariadne. He checked Eames' room. No Ariadne but a groggy, now panicked Eames. They raced to the roof, Arthur praying she was there one second and threatening to kill her for being there the next. Just as they thought, she was sound asleep on the roof.

Ariadne woke up in her bed. She distinctly remembered leaving it the night before... Her totem fell with a clunk. _She knew it was coming_, she knew it would when she purposefully left the suite and disregarded his requests. It's just that last night, the prospect of Arthur's anger hadn't scared her because it seemed so far away. With a deep breath and headstrong attitude, she gathered her courage and opened her bedroom door. There Arthur stood, waiting with clasped hands and a face of stone. "Good morning to you too, Arthur." She quipped.

_Her coy sarcasm…infuriating, exasperating, incensing, indignant, _"Did I not make myself clear last night?"

"About…?"

Eames tried to intervene while Arthur took a deep breath, "Ariadne this is not the time…" She rolled her eyes at him and tried to wave Eames off.

"We were worried sick." The Point Man stared.

"Well apparently you knew where I was: you both carried me back to my room." Her nonchalant attitude was getting increasingly vexing.

"How many times do I have to tell you to ask me if you can leave this suite before you'll understand?"

She pursed her lips and walked around him to the front of the room, "Maybe you should just stop _telling _me, Arthur. It's pointless." Ariadne opened the door and powerwalked down the hallways again. Being out there felt like she was punching him in the face and _boy did she want to_.

Arthur's jaw ground against itself. His shoulder blades tensed and clenched back in such a way that you could see it through his button up. "Oh Lord." Eames foresaw a showdown that wouldn't end prettily for anyone. Both The Point Man and The Architect were fearless, hardheaded, sharp tongued and too attached (without knowing it) to each other for their own good. All Arthur wanted was to protect her, help her, be the person she needed. And while Ariadne wanted freedom…more than that she wanted the respect from Arthur she thought she'd lost. She wanted him to be more yielding, more understanding, warmer, open. Arthur may not have realized it yet but Eames knew. _He knew; _He'd watched him carefully in the weeks they spent running after her. Saw the raw, guttural need Arthur had to find her. The Point was fearful of losing her again, both because he didn't want her in danger _and _he didn't know if he could take it again. He watched Arthur storm out of the room after her, heard his long strides stomping down the hall, heard Ariadne's protests and kept his eyes glued to the door. He waited to see Arthur carry her back in the room like a cat over his shoulder, set her down and slam the door closed. "Don't leave this suite!"

Completely fuming by Arthur's disregard for her independence and exploding with outrage that he had picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and barked at her like that, she snapped, "I am _not _some Damsel in Distress, Arthur! I don't need a knight in shining armor to protect me—Ariadne saved Theseus not the other way around. I don't need your help! _I didn't even ask for it_; I called_ Cobb_ and _you _showed up! At this point, I _wish _they'd find me; at least as they were dragging me out, I could see the outsi-"

"Goddammit, Ariadne! Do you ever shut up!" Eames could see that her words had cut him. Arthur had lost his control, lost his ability to stand there and let those words go through one ear and out the other like he could with everyone else. They were affecting him because her words and _her words_ _alone_ were the ones that mattered. Eames was a grade A reader of body language, of facial expressions and though Arthur may have masked the hurt well enough to hide it from Ariadne—or she was too mad to look for it—Eames saw it. When she mentioned calling Cobb and having Arthur show up instead, she didn't mean it and the Forger knew. However, it sounded like she'd rather have the Extractor there with her—who were they kidding? If she wanted anyone with her during all of this, it was Arthur—and that she was disappointed it _wasn't _Cobb. And when she spat that she wished those people would find her, implied she'd rather be with them, that anything was better than being cooped up here with Arthur—that broke the straw in his back. Eames' trained eye saw the heave, the flare of the nostrils, the poignant flicker through his pupils.

Her eyes widened at his use of foul language. It sounded so foreign on his lips.

"Do you know how many strings I've pulled? How much time and money I've spent trying to find you and make sure you have _everything_ you need with Eames and I? Haven't I provided everything you've asked for? And you can't compromise and give me the _one_ thing I ask in return! I have been through the fucking ringer for you Ariadne, _for you_, and you've been nothing but an unappreciative little brat! You'd think I'd get a fucking thank you for putting up with your shit for this long."

The fire was put out. Sticks and stones can cut you up, break your bones and make you bleed but it's words that hurt the most, isn't it? It's easier to dish it out than take it because sometimes what you dish out are lies. They're sentences constructed out of anger to hurt the other person _and you know it_. They might not but at least you do. When someone else dishes it out, _it's all truth_. _Their _sentences constructed out of anger tear you apart because you don't know which feelings are real and which are tiny soldiers sent in just for insult of the moment. And that is why Ariadne couldn't look him in the eye anymore. That is why Arthur instantly felt remorse and stepped closer, "I didn't mean to cuss you out like that, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." His velvety soft words and quieted demeanor were in such contrast to his recent outburst that Eames believed it an episode of bipolar or multiple personality disorder.

To find Ariadne speechless was a phenomenon. She licked her lips and slowly pivoted, carefully and soundlessly closed her door. Arthur watched her until the knob on the door returned upright. He had to loosen his tie and rub his temples before he looked at Eames, "She is going to be the death of me."  
xxxxxx

He gave an hour for her to cool off and then cautiously knocked on her door, "Ariadne? I would like to talk this out in a rational manner."

She didn't answer. Eames snickered at him, "'I would like to talk this out in a rational manner,'" Eames mocked in a ridiculous voice. "She's a _woman_, Arthur, not a presidential candidate."

Another hour, "Ariadne, we really need to clear the air." No answer. This time, Eames just comments, "Better…"

Another hour, "Ariadne, please let me talk to you." No answer. It was enough for Eames. He stood, brushed off his trousers and gave Arthur a pitying look. The Forger pushed the other man aside and knocked on her door, "It's Eames, Deary." And it wasn't two seconds before the door opened, she let him in and closed the door firmly. Despite himself and doubtful they would address this matter between the two of them again, Arthur listened through the door. However inappropriate and impolite it was.  
xxxxxx

"You really botched things up, now, didn't you?" He tried to kid as he sat on the edge of her bed by her.

"Eames…"

The latter apologized.  
xxxxxx

_Was that her voice? _Why did it sound so limp like that? _Because of me…_ The next thing Arthur heard through the door dropped to his stomach like a boulder. "He hates me." That couldn't be farther from the truth.  
xxxxxx

"That is _crock_."

"Is it?" She challenges, "He doesn't even talk to me except when he needs answers for his research or he's yelling at me."

He sighed, "Don't ever tell him I sided with him but you do give him reason to yell."

"_All the time_? He's always mad at me." She ran her hands through her hair and picked at her shirt.

"He's not mad at _you, _he's mad about the situation."

She sat on the edge of her bed with Eames, "Yeah I got that. He doesn't want to be here, I'm a burden…fine. Why come? Don't put up with my shit if you don't want to, you know? Just leave."

"That's our Point Man's problem…he _doesn't _want to leave. He _wants _to put up with your shit, he just didn't know you like to fling it around so forcefully."  
xxxxxx

_He doesn't want to be here. _Where else would he be? _I'm a burden. _A burden he was more than happy to carry. _Just leave. _How could he do that to her? "Why can't Arthur be more like you?" What is that supposed to mean?

"You're so easy to talk to, to compromise with. Arthur is so…" So what? Hateful, strict, robotic? Such a stick in the mud? It's nothing new to hear.

Eames smiled, "Arthur?"

Arthur heard her breathy laugh before she continued her speculation of him. "You're the only thing that keeps me sane, Eames, I swear. He didn't used to be so hardcore…I used to want to tell him everything and now I feel like I can't tell him anything anymore. He just makes me feel so guilty…and it's not fair. I haven't been on the run before, I don't know how to cope, I don't know how to deal with things—and I—I want him to help with that and he just won't. He closes me off every time I try to pull it out of him."

Layers of Arthur's thick skin started to slowly peel away. Irrepressible guilt that he could make her feel all those things. That he had. It was ironic: When she wanted to tell him everything—the jobs prior—he had wanted to shut it out, he had wanted her to keep her distance. Now that she felt she couldn't talk to him, he wanted it all. Every bit of knowledge a person could know about the Architect. It wasn't healthy. Ariadne wanted him to help her deal with all this and he didn't know how. He yearned to help her too but he couldn't help himself; he had a reflex. Every time he allowed himself to open up and share moments with her, every time she made him feel something—it was subtle and mind blowing and scary…but _there_, something, and he wasn't supposed to feel _anything_.— he involuntarily activated his force field. It shouldn't bother him that he couldn't control the force field, that he couldn't keep it from affecting whatever relationship they had. But it did. It depressed him. Tantalized him. He wanted to barge through her bedroom door and—and what? He didn't know. Stare at her? Try to fight the parasites in him that kept her at arm's length? _God, what was happening to him?_  
xxxxxx

Scratching his throat, Eames offered, "He _is_ one for pushing people away for unknown reasons." (the reason isn't so unknown to The Forger. Arthur has feelings for the girl that he refuses to accept so he hides behind his door and his computer screen to keep from fueling it.)

"I just don't understand people like that!" She plops backward onto the bed. "People like that are the reason my family is crumpled piece of shit."

Eames questioned her with his eyes and she prepared to go into summary of her life. "I watched my mom push my dad away my entire childhood. She divorced him and tried to cut us kids off from him. My dad was the _only_ one in that family that paid a speck of attention to me and my mom said I had to choose between her and my siblings or my dad. When I moved in with him, they shut _me_ out. My sister made my life a living hell at school and my brother went along. Until I was fifteen and Hera got cancer, my dad and I were the only matches, so cue weeks of fake family unity. He died in surgery giving my sister one of his kidneys so I finished the job and have her some bone marrow. Cancer went into remission and yeah my relationship with her and my brother slowly made progress…but I mean daddy died, I had to move back in, I spent every day being shoved away from my own mother."

"Damn."

"I can't fathom someone _wanting_ to build walls because I spent my whole childhood trying to break them down."

"That's what Arthur hates about you. You're good at breaking them down. He acts the way he does, pushes you away like he does because he doesn't want those walls to fall."

Ariadne looked up at Eames, to the door and then back. She mouthed, 'I care for him.' A little confession Eames was already aware of. He mouthed back, 'I know.'  
xxxxxx

It was silent in the room, Arthur suspected, but he strained his ears in case their voices had just lowered. Nothing. He heard Eames tell her to shake it all off and try to resurface by lunch so Arthur crossed the room to sit on the couch and grab the newspaper. Eames came out of her room and eyed Arthur suspiciously before he joined him.

xxxxxx

Her feet squished on the carpet as she tip-toed to the entry. Ariadne pulled one of Eames' jackets off one of the chairs and slipped it on, on the way out. Looking around in the dark she confirmed the emptiness of the large living area. Eames had gone to take a shower and Arthur was holed up in his room doing research. A whispered curse left the Architect when the floor beneath her creaked. She slowly turned the knob and quietly pulled the door towards her when a hand appeared on the door above her and closed it. "Where are you going?" Arthur's voice was worried like she was a kid who'd stepped in front of a moving car. Where did he come from? What was he, a ninja? She decided she'd play innocent like she'd never been told not to leave the suite. Completely avoiding the fact that they'd had an explosive, screaming debacle about it mere hours ago. "We need ice."

"For what?"

Ariadne raised an eyebrow, "Our drinks are getting warm."

"Put them in the fridge." He countered like a game.

She flashed a fake smile, "I'll be sure to do that when I get back," She tried to step out into the hallway again but he caught her wrist—gently this time- pulled her back and reclosed the door. Ariadne huffed, "Can I not just take a walk in the hallway?"

"You know I've asked you not to leave the suite before telling me. That's all I want. Stop sneaking around and tell me where you're going when you're going…"

In reply put her hands on her hips and jutted one to the side. "I'm telling you now…What's the difference between being out in the hallway and being in here, anyways? If whoever is following me knows where we are and are here too…what makes you think a door could stop them from taking me if they wanted to?" In a fit of arrogance, she bout faced and swung the door open.

Arthur slammed it closed and kept his hand on the wood, pressuring it to stay that way. "I'm sorry I can't let you frolic in the halls all the time," He started sarcastically, clearly agitated—he had always been slow to anger, what was wrong with him?- "but we _have to take precautions_ to ensure your safety."

"No. _I _have to take precautions. You and Eames get to do whatever the hell you want! I have to stay in here when you leave. I have to have a gun in my hand. I have to answer the phone before it rings twice when you check up on me."

"It's necessary." Arthur deadpanned.

"It's not. You forget I took care of myself for two, three weeks. Such good care, in fact, that _even you_ couldn't figure out where I was. The only reason you knew anything was because Cobb called you." She reached back for the doorknob and froze before she could twist it.

Arthur had rested his hand on top of hers. If it wasn't enough to send bolts of electricity through her stomach and out her toes, his next words were. "You're right. _I couldn't find_ _you_." Oh God, his thumb was brushing against her pulse point. His skin against hers. It felt inexplicably wonderful. Could he feel her pulse quicken under his touch there? "I don't want to go through that again. That's the only reason I'm so strict with you, I don't ever want to be unable to find you again." Ariadne's head was spinning. The moment was so uncharacteristically intimate that her free hand grasped at her pocket for her totem.

"Ok." It was weak but it was all she could think to say. She pulled her hand back and looked anywhere but his eyes. His sentence guilted her (and both touched and enthralled her at the same time too). Ariadne finally realized that he wasn't keeping track of her for her sake or because he saw her unfit to do so herself. He was anal about knowing where she was because for longest time he _didn't_ know, he couldn't find out and that was something Arthur wasn't used to. The girl shrugged Eames' jacket off, folded her arms across her chest and walked to plop down on the couch.  
xxxxxx

Lunchtime rolled around and Arthur announced he would order room service and asked Eames to check the airline statistics. The Point Man had found a way to hack into the three airports in the country and track all flights coming in and out, who was on them, where they sat and how they paid. Then programmed a reaction on his computer to trace all flights bought with a company card of any sort. Eames logged on and sifted through the list lazily. Ariadne was in her room watching tv and sketching. As soon as Arthur finished the order and hung up, Eames turned to him. "Where was the last confirmed location of Ari's trackers?"

"Charleston, North Carolina as of an hour ago."

"Well I see here thirty two tickets, all purchased with company cards an hour ago, departing Charleston, NC and arriving in Brazil. Ten purchased with company cards an hour ago departing Austin, TX and arriving in Brazil, seventeen an hour ago from Chicago, IL to Brazil…" Eames eyes were widening…

Arthur started pacing, "We've got thirteen of the same nature departing LA and eight departing New York…all an hour ago, all landing in Brazil."

"Shit! What airport?"

Eames ignored Arthur. He slammed the laptop closed and gaited to Ariadne's door, "Ariadne, get up! We've got to get out of here." Her fuzzy brain muttered, "What?" Arthur appeared in the doorway as Eames pulled her up and took the book out of her hands and stuffed it in her sling before throwing it on the bed, threw her hoodie at her and walked back out, "We're leaving _now!_"

Arthur, alarmed, grabbed Eames' arm for an answer, "Eames, which airport are they landing in?"

"All of them."  
xxxxxx  
The car was burning rubber to the nearest airport.

"Ariadne, I'll take your backpack through security, I want you to get to that terminal and on that plane as soon as possible. You're going by your middle name and the last name Mason. Don't look anyone in the eyes, stop for nothing, yes?"

The car came to a screeching halt. "You've got to be bloody kidding me!" Ahead was traffic for miles. There was an overturned semi blocking all four lanes. Eames banged on the steering wheel as Arthur pinched his nose bridge. Ariadne's eyes suddenly came into contact with The Point Man's. "Get out of the car. Get your backpack."

Arthur had already gotten out and began walking back the direction they came. He'd made it far in the it took her to get out of the car, backpack secured on her back and following him. He pulled bills out of his pocket while she'd walked the last few steps to him and looked around his shoulder. What she saw, was a biker getting off his motorcycle, pockets full and walking towards a cab even farther back. He handed her the helmet, "Hop on." Arthur swung his leg over the motorcycle and re-revved it up. Without a word but with a skeptical glance she pulled the helmet on, swung her short legs over the back of the motorcycle and wrapped her arms around his waist. With a smirk, Arthur set off to weave through the traffic. When they came upon the blocked off area, Arthur went into the underbrush and made their way around it, hopped back onto the freeway and gunned it to the airport. When they were well on their way, her looked at her in the rear view. "You may have to head to Sydney by yourself."

"What?"

"Eames is obviously not going to make the flight and we're almost missing it as it is. I'm dropping you off at the terminal and you're going to sprint, you understand? As fast as your legs can carry you. There is a big chance I won't make the flight either, I'll go back and get Eames." He added, yelling over the motor.

"Arth—"

"Don't wait for me this time. You hear me, Ariadne? Not a split second. Those men are flying into the airport in less than fifteen minutes; they're swarming all over Brazil. I want you out."

"I—"

He interrupted with more instructions, "I hired a black bmw to pick us up at the airport in Sydney under the name Thorne."

"I don't wa—"

"_Listen._ Make sure he mentions the Penrose steps before you go with him. He'll take you to the hotel, use cash, duck down. When we pull in I want you to take the gun out of my holster and the security pass Eames' forged for it in my jacket pocket."

He could hear the abstinence in her voice even before she spoke, "I'm not—"

"_Get on that plane, Ariadne."_ It may have been Arthur's imagination but he felt her arms tighten around him.

She called over the motor, "On the off-chance that I sprint but still miss the flight, what then?"

"You won't miss it."

"But if I do?"

"You won't." He demanded.

"But if I _do_?" She insisted.

He smirked, "You're smart. You'll find somewhere to wait it out; remember to get my gun."

She wondered aloud. "They'll find me."

"No." He looked at her in the side view mirror of the bike, "_I'll _find you. No matter what I have to do to see you again, _I'll always find you_."

There were flutters in Ariadne's chest…she couldn't decide whether she should thank him or tighten her arms around him again, or loosen them to lessen suspicion…but before she had to choose, they pulled in. His words were momentarily forgotten by the pair. Hastily, she stuffed the gun in the backpack as he got out the weapon pass. They didn't speak another word. Arthur revved up the bike and watched her stretched, hastened strides to the airport entrance. She turned at the automatic doors to see him. She needed that last look of reassurance, that last look of guidance from him. All Ariadne had to do was look in his eyes to see the word _'Sprint'_ written in them. So she did.  
xxxxxx

Eventful chapter! The feelings rise…Please review! And since I'm updating this morning to make up for not updating last night I'll try really hard to update a second time tonight! But please review! It'll motivate me. :)


	13. Sweetheart

Hi! Thank you: _Legal-Asssasin-006, Guest, Chewi.x, Feelthefreedom, TriGemini, applythepressure, PrincessLove123, Miss Ariadne, Dancergal06, jcarter920, snapdragon17, .85, Alessa-Assassina._

Make sure to read the A/N at the end! This chapter is mostly a filler to make Arthur squirm. I don't really like it that much but whatever. Haha. Hopefully you guys like it ok.

**Chapter 12- Sweetheart**

Eames had pulled off onto the median to leave the car. Stuffed the Pasiv inside Arthur's duffel and concealed all extra weapons in his backpack as well. It took twenty-five minutes for Arthur to make the trip back to Eames and then back to the airport. This time Arthur pulled into the parking garage and the men pulled on sunglasses—Eames donned a fedora—to help conceal their true identities, it was a necessity when dealing with any Company power. Eames spoke as he walked briskly back around to the entrance. "It's been roughly half an hour since you were here last, we've missed it."

"Have you not already booked another flight?" Arthur checked his watch and looked behind them. Suspiciously eyeing the dimly lit, deserted garage.

Eames sounded offended, "Not without making sure our Architect made hers first."

"If Ari waited, she will never hear the end of it…" He threatened.

He heard Eames cackle. What was so funny about that sentence? When he looked, he found a sly, victorious grin smeared on his face. "Why so smug, Mr. Eames?"

"Oh nothing," he sang and pushed open the door. Bursts of air conditioning and the bustle of hundreds of people welcomed them into the current. Then he added, "Except the fact that you have a little nickname for her now. Burying yourself deeper and deeper aren't you?"

They followed the signs to the terminal her flight would've been in, "You rarely call her by her _actual_ name."

"Yes but that's me. I nickname everyone, love- See? Take for instance that charming fellow coming from the bathroom with his zipper undone. 'Free Willy…' The woman that just passed us with the unfeminine patch of hair on her chin? 'Genghis Khan.'"

"I just shortened it to Ari to be of more convenience…I don't see the significance, Eames."

"The significance _is, Artie," _They turned the corner and started looking for the Gate numbers, "That I don't call her that...Miles doesn't call her that. Cobb doesn't call her that, Yusuf doesn't—Just you. It's _special _and _endearing_. Like if you called her Sweetheart."

Arthur tensed, "It is _hardly _like calling her Sweetheart."

"It is when you say it like you did…" The Forger badgered. Arthur huffed and pointed to the sign a few feet ahead that labeled the gate her flight left from. "C'est la vie, Arthur. But since you have an inhumanity and coldness about you and therefore don't understand the sentiments of mere mortals…I would suggest you don't use either around her-She might get the wrong idea. You know, like you actually care about her or something."

Arthur ignored his picking as they walked up to the flight desk, "Work your magic."

Eames grabbed a security guard's hat that was laid on the back of a luggage cart for a second and pulled out a badge (fake of course). In his best Portuguese he ordered, "I need to take a look at the last flight's passenger list. We suspect a minor slipped through."

Arthur waited with bated breath in the chairs provided. Eames returned, "She tried. She checked in but she was logged as missed. They must've already sealed the door. I got three tickets for the next flight to Sydney."

Arthur nodded, "How soon?"

Eames scanned the area already looking for a short brunette, "An hour and a half. Split up?"

"I'll find her."

"Of course you will," Eames quipped.

"Be a distraction, will you?"

"My pleasure." Eames cheekily grinned and the two men split up.

It was a huge airport. Nearly one hundred restaurants and shops she could be in. Ariadne could be hiding out in any one of the restroom facilities, be posing as any of the employees and then there was the hotel attached to the airport. But he would find her.  
xxxxxx

The music in the background could be described as jazzy cocktail. Ariadne swayed as she observed the picture of "Jax and Ava:" the young couple getting married in the hotel attached to the airport. She missed her flight by a fraction of a second and so had five minutes to get out of sight. There were plenty of options, she could blend easily. The dilemma she faced herself with, however, was how to not only hide somewhere the men wouldn't look but also find a place where Arthur and Eames _would_. Unfortunately there were no snow fortresses in the airport but Arthur's level on their first job together was in a hotel and though she didn't expect Arthur to take such sentimentality in that, she believed he would logically believe it a place of meeting even as a last resort. When she saw the event board advertising a wedding, she knew her pursuers would _never _look for her there. In little time, she found the closest boutique and paid for a wedding appropriate outfit to attend in and paid with cash. She ducked her head as she went through the last stretch of airport before it opened into the hotel. She bought heels to get rid of the short girl identifier and come on…what run away would skip the world over in a little teal dress. She put her previous clothes and shoes in her backpack and hid it behind a large potted plant. She'd been early and had to watch them set up, so she was the first guest to arrive. Many, many more including the bridal party had shown up since then. She was in the bathroom trying to do something with the droopy, spiritless mess her hair had become when one of the younger bridesmaids- maybe a younger sister of the bride?—had come in with a toiletry case and a duffel of hair products. Ariadne felt the girl's eyes on her as she combed through her hair with her fingers and twirled it to restore some shape. "Are you here for the wedding?"

The Architect met her eyes in the mirror and nodded sheepishly. The girl's eyes lit up, "Do you know my sister?"

What to do? What to do? "No, I—"

"Oh did you just fly in?" She pointed to Ariadne's hair as if it had all the answers in the world, "You must know Jax, all his friends had to fly in from his hometown."

"Yeah—airplanes do a number on your looks, don't they?"

Sympathetically, the girl nodded in agreement. Then some random excitement seemed to ripple through her and she beamed at the Architect. "I have my curler with me!" She pulled it out along with some hairspray and curling gel, "Here, you can borrow it."

"Oh…thank you." She thanked her, surprised as she watched the girl turn it on and place it in front of her.

"We have like twenty minutes," Then the girl pulled out an elaborate, almost military looking case and opened it to reveal makeup. Loads and loads of makeup. Ariadne raised an eyebrow—teenage girls—and then picked up the curler to start. "Can I do your makeup?" The Architect judged the girl's face and seeing that she looked less like a clown-faced teenager but more like a classy, fresh and natural, young woman, she agreed.

They had finished and she had been staring at the picture of Jax and Ava for a good bit since then. She watched as other guests filed in. "What's your name?" brought her back to the moment at hand. She looked up and found herself staring at one of the groomsmen (or she assumed. He was wearing a tux and a boutonnière…)

She stuttered for a second but remembered it was her middle name plus-,"Grace. You?"

"James." He smiled charmingly. Piercing blue eyes, stark white skin and ebony hair. "Friend of the groom's?"

She feigned surprise, "Yeah! How'd you know?"

"Because you're not in the wedding party." He chuckled, "You're too pretty to be at the wedding and not be a bridesmaid. It'd be an honor to walk _you _down the aisle."

James leaned forward flirtatiously and she felt an arm slink around her waist, "There you are, Sweetheart. I've been looking for you everywhere."

Ariadne turned abruptly to find Arthur's beaming face and feel the warm sensation of his lips kissing her hair. She tried to savor the moment before she played along, "I've just been looking at these pictures of your friend Jax, wasn't he cute as a kid?"

He chuckled and looked at James, "Thank you for keeping her company," then he took her hand and linked their fingers, "We should probably find our seats, hm?" Hands burning and yet still needing to hide out longer, they stayed to play out the façade. They sat on the groom's side and not long after they had sat, someone tapped Arthur's shoulder from behind. He turned, hand on his replenished holster.

"Russell! My man! Remember me?"

"Uh.." Arthur played perplexed.

The guy's woman friend swatted Arthur's shoulder, "Janice and Todd from junior high!"

The Point Man feigned recognition so well, "Ohh yeah, yeah!"

"Stepmom still crazy?" asked the Todd character.

Arthur joked, "Batshit, man. How's your brother?" Arthur had pulled up information on the groom on his cellphone prior to entering the wedding. He had also read up on his friends. Leave it to Arthur never to be unprepared and never to have holes in his fake identities.

"Ah freshman at LSU. He couldn't fly out like the rest of us."

The woman, Janice, grinned mischievously and gestured for Todd to hush, "Who would this be, Russy?" She nodded at Ariadne.

Arthur gave Ariadne _that _look. That look he gave her in the Fischer hotel after he kissed her. That look that she had to fight to keep from coming undone under. "This would be my A—this is my Grace."

_My. _What Ariadne wouldn't give to have heard _my Ariadne _come out of his mouth in that moment. With their shoulders brushing, his hand intertwined with hers, that look in his eyes. The girl might as well have cooed over Ariadne while she patted her hand, "Well you are so lucky to have such a wonderful man looking after you."

"Actually," Arthur corrected and changed his focus to meet Ariadne's eyes again. This time with apology and other things she couldn't name at the moment, "_I'm_ the lucky one because she lets me."

"Awwww!" The obnoxious Janice fell to emotional pieces as Arthur and Ariadne turned back around to face the front. Arthur smirking ahead and then at the Architect who just rolled her eyes at the squealing behind them. The music started and the party started to come down the aisle two by two. She was analyzing the archway they constructed for the bride and groom to stand under when she felt Arthur's calloused hand push a strand of curl behind her ear and whisper, "You look beautiful."

She swallowed trying to re-wet the throat that had gone dry. Was she blushing or was her ear on fire because of his caress? Most likely both. She had to remind herself they were playing characters, that Arthur was acting. Out of the corner of her eye, she smirked back and whispered, playing along, "Just for you."

The Point Man's stomach leapt to his throat but his kept his eyes on her. He watched her watch the wedding. He ran his eyes along the soft chestnut curls, the long black painted eyelashes, smooth skin, glossy lips, the neckline of the dress and the way it effortlessly laid on her shoulders. _Just for him. _The wedding ended as soon as it started and the two clapped heartily for their imaginary friend. They stood and Ariadne looked at him expectantly. He asked after looking at his watch, "We have some time before we need to catch our flight, Grace, want to check out the reception?"

Ariadne smiled at him through her eyelashes and kissed him on the cheek, "Up to you, _Sweetheart."_ She mocked the nickname he used on her earlier. He held out his arm for her to link through his and he led her to the reception room, not ready to shed their star crossed lover characters just yet.  
xxxxxx

Arthur had never attended a more beautiful reception. Whether or not that had to do with the mood holding Ariadne's hand had put him in is unknown. They snuck a plate or two of chocolate covered strawberries and wedding cake and sat in the Groom's section. There was twenty minutes to spare before their plane would begin boarding. They didn't really talk. People had begun taking the dance floor and swiveling to the live music together. She had asked Arthur to dance with her for at least one song but he'd made an excuse about not caring for dancing. Thus, Ariadne was noticeably tapping her fingernails and mouthing the words to the song in her seat. The groomsman who had been so taken with her earlier had approached her at the table but looked to Arthur for consent, "Pardon me, but I noticed this lovely lady tapping her foot and would like share a dance. I promise it's all just good fun." He smiled.

The Point Man opened his mouth to answer with a firm no but Ariadne looked to Arthur with 'pretty pretty please' in her eyes. He agreed to let her go, making sure to eye the man. As she stood to step away, he grabbed her wrist to reassure her, "If you need me to intervene, all you have to do is look over at me."  
xxxxxx

The song finished and her and her partner danced through 'I Wanna Be Loved By You.' They seemed to have a pleasant conversation. Ariadne flew through lies like a pro. The man was respectful of her but Arthur could tell he was smitten, as were most men with Ariadne. She had a certain vibe about her that naturally attracted men without trying. Somehow, watching her sway and grin had shifted his thoughts. They along with this scenario were taunting him. What if this was how it was with Ariadne every day? Calling each other Sweetheart, holding her hand, being able to adore her with his eyes without guard. Going to non-work related things together: dates, weddings, public events where he could show her off. She did the most unholy of things to him with the simple bat of an eyelash. What would happen if she kissed him? His core burned at the thought. If she ran her fingers across his suit? It gave him butterflies when she said 'Good morning,' and that was after joining him at the breakfast table; would he implode if he woke up to her saying that? Lying in bed next to her? Simple fact of the matter was…he thought he was in deep and they didn't even have a mutual understanding of each other's feelings. How hard and fast would he fall if they became something more than what they were? He wasn't sure he could handle it. Which reinforced the notion that fueling those feelings for her were dangerous and he shouldn't think of her that way. He should pull away again. Something her partner had said was hilarious because her face lit up with that million wat smile. How was it that everyone in the world that wasn't Arthur could do that? Suddenly, her eyes grazed over the room and landed on his. He mouthed, "You need me?"

She shook her head and returned her undivided attention to the groomsman that held her. There was an ice that dripped down Arthur's spine, a churning in his center that was too familiar to the Point Man. One he felt around her and Eames, her and Cobb…her and that blonde guy in the park. Never this strongly before. Maybe it was because his character had begun to take over. Maybe it was because that voice in his head told him that she looked _that _pretty '_just for him.' _ His thought had changed from counting the minutes to a desire to dance with her. After all, she was his 'date', it would only show continuity with their fake identities if he did so. He politely intervened on his own account and Ariadne smiled. To Arthur's luck or lack thereof: 'A Kiss To Build a Dream On' sailed into their ears next. He held one of her hands in his and lightly placed his hand on her waist. (He wondered if it made her waist throb like it made his hand.)

"I thought you said you didn't care for dancing?" The uncomfortable feeling he wouldn't accept as jealousy subsided when her eyes were on _him _once again.

He shrugged, "I got tired of watching him sling you around. You needed someone who knows how."

"I liked dancing with James." She shrugged back at him. "I thought he was good."

And that feeling was crawling back, "Well you hadn't danced with me yet."

"The band is good." She offered a change of subject. Ariadne thought if she kept up conversation it would keep her mind off the truth of the song's lyrics. She was sure Arthur hadn't even taken note.

"Marvelous." After minutes of silence he added, "I've rarely seen you in a dress."

She rolled her eyes at that statement, "Well what's your verdict of this one?"

He defended, "I told you earlier I thought you looked beautiful. _Exceptionally_, so." He fought back the idea of her words from earlier again. That it was just for him.

"As Russell." She laughed.

That dampened his spirits, though it shouldn't mean a thing. Except that it meant, she thought his compliment was part of their game. And it meant her _just for you_ wasn't just for Arthur. "It was Russell's name but my thoughts, my words."

She looked up at him and tried to hold back a smile. She hadn't picked up the turmoil she'd just created. Hadn't understood the place he was trying to take the conversation. He wanted her to admit that her response was her words as well. She's most likely forgotten she'd even said it. "Well I always see you in a suit…but I guess you're _exceptionally_ suit-y today." She simpered. "Very handsome." She chuckled, "That's my favorite suit, now."

He didn't quite laugh but she saw those dimples and the appreciation for her humor in his sparkling brown pools. If that was the only moment they shared for the rest of her life she would die happy. She settled for leaving their conversation at that and watched a couple around Arthur's shoulder, lost in each other. She found herself giving off a faraway smile. The song was fixing to die and she absentmindedly mouthed the last words as she admired them, wished they were her and someone else. Someone swaying dangerously close with her, "_Give me your lips for just a moment and my imagination will make that moment live. Give me what you alone can give. A kiss to build a dream on."_

It hadn't gone unnoticed by Arthur. In fact, if their undue closeness had no effect than those words silently moving her lips had hypnotized him. A kiss to build a dream on…the soft collision of his lips with hers in the Fischer Hotel had been just that. When the music had completely died and she stopped her rhythmic side to side steps, she thanked Arthur for finally dancing with her. He checked his watch and low and behold the time had slipped away and their plane would board in less than four minutes.  
xxxxxx

Still hand in hand, he pulled her out of the reception and she grabbed her backpack and slung it on one shoulder on the way out of the hotel. They gaited passed the different terminals and every time a man or woman in a suit would pass them, they would duck their heads and whisper sweet nothings in character to avoid eye contact.

Once, it was Arthur's turn and he said something to the effect of 'being on the run isn't exactly as romantic as you'd imagined, is it?' Ariadne stopped in the middle of the walkway and tugged his tie to bring his face centimeters away from her. She gave him a coy smile and brought her lips up so that with one tilt of Arthur's chin, he could kiss her. He could meet those rosy lips he'd been thinking of despite his attempts not to. She teased him with her hot breath ghosting over his mouth, mingling with his in the space between them. In the same second, Arthur mindlessly moved down to meet their lips as Ariadne turned her head to watch a group of suited, armed men walk away from them.

"We're clear." Her flirtatious persona was gone and all the heat that Arthur felt between them in that moment fizzled when he followed her eyes to the reason she'd pulled him close. Not that it should bother him but he'd never wanted to kiss a woman more in his life. _What had that wedding done to him? _ She released his tie and he inwardly pulled himself together while she tugged on his hand and lead him the last ten feet to their gate. Eames was sitting in a chair waiting on them. From feet away, he saw the Forger's eyes shoot up. He saw that mischievous gleam, the raking of his eyes up and down. He gritted his jaw and tried to act unfazed. Let the man look, today, her efforts in vanity were _just for him._ As they got closer, Eames started humming Pretty Woman. Arthur heard her giggle and then felt his hand go cold as Ariadne obliterated all trace of their characters and walked ahead to sit with Eames.

"Why do _you_ look so pretty?" He heard the forger tease.

She laughed, "Just for you, Mr. Eames."

Only the forger noticed the minute flare of Arthur's nostrils as he pocketed the hand she'd been holding.  
xxxxxx

Ok, so not the most action filled but I wanted Arthur to be shoved into a situation where there covers allowed him to see and treat her in a more romantic way. I wanted him to start to realize what he could have if he opened up. I wanted him to start to long for it to be that way and start to view her flirtatious attentions as ones that he wants solely for himself.

**Story Elaboration: **On my profile, under the story name, I have some links. One is a link to a picture of what Ariadne's wedding outfit looked like and two that link to the songs her and the groomsman danced to and the one she and Arthur danced to. So if you're bored and/or waiting for an update you can immerse yourself a little more into this chapter. Lol.


	14. Sweet Dreams

Hi! Hi! I'm glad the response was positive although I felt slightly disappointed with myself in that chapter. But! Your reviews helped me push through the writer's block and HERE WE ARE. Updatin time. Big thank you's to the people who made this chapter worth sticking it out and writing: _Legal-Assasin-006, sopleaza, Guest, AjmZjm, PrincessLove123, snapdragon17, Miss Ariadne, feelthefreedom, MetroHarbor, latoulousaine _

**Chapter- Sweet Dreams**

Safe and sound again. Another city, another band of adventures. Their layover had been delayed, so it was midnight, Australian time when they landed in Sydney. Ariadne quick changed and crawled straight in to bed, so tired that she barely made it there. Her door left wide open. Eames poured himself a nice glass of wine to wind down and Arthur retired to his room to begin preparations on the next set of passports and backstories. So should anything happen by morning, they would be more prepared then previous times. Eames enjoyed sipping his drink and watching tv on low, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. An hour later he awoke to rustling and mumbling in Ariadne's room. He blinked his eyes rapidly to help them adjust to the darkness and tried to peer into the Architect's dark room. Then her voice, clear as day gave a firm, "NO." And then there was a loud thump and her gasp. Pitter patter, pitter patter. Then she was at her doorway.

"Everything ok?" He asked groggily.

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something or someone. When she saw no one but Eames was there she visibly relaxed. "Just a bad dream."

"Need to talk about it?"

"No…I'm fine…Goodnight."

The next morning, Eames caught on to something strange. When Ariadne had greeted the men good morning she had not looked the Point Man in the eye nor did she sit in her usual spot in between them. Instead, she took her bowl of Coa Coa Puffs and sat by her lonesome on the couch. By lunchtime, Eames had joined her in the living area. When Arthur surfaced from his room, again Ariadne avoided looking at him directly. She watched out of the corner on her eye whilst clutching her pocket. Peculiar. Further baffling, when Arthur had opened one of the windows to let some fresh sea air in with their lunch, The Architect had jumped. Her eyes grew wide and searched the swaying curtains for what—Eames didn't know—and her knuckles were white with her grasp on the couch arm and her pocket. Eames decided he would wear her down and pry some information from her shaking hands that next night.  
xxxxxx

Routinely, Arthur excused himself to his room. It was always understood that the Point Man was doing research or check-ups or spreadsheets or something of the sort. Really you would've thought he'd know everything there is to know by now, he was "doing research" 24/7. That was how he used his free time during the day. But who knows what he really did when he closed himself off in his room. Eames was pretty sure he just sat in the corner and daydreamed about their Architect. He probably had little love poems he'd typed all day on his computer. Documents with the different variations of her name after she married Arthur: Mrs. Ariadne Nolan, Mrs. Ariadne Grace Nolan, Mrs. Ariadne Bourgeois Nolan, Mr and Mrs. Nolan, Mrs. Arthur Nolan…He probably also had files of children names that he liked, and pictures of kids he pictured theirs would look like and a house picked out. And how he would figure their income on spreadsheets. His research everyday probably included finding the perfect honeymoon spot and where their second vacation home would be located. The Point Man was a pansy unlike The Forger. If Arthur was like Eames, he'd have all the ladies. But alas, no one could be as witty, charming and chiseled as he. Eames really pitied the other men of the world…

He watched the cooking channel on low volume for a spell when he heard her mumbling again. This time, however, he wasn't half asleep but prepared to listen. "_What are you going to do to him?...Please don't…Stop. Arthur! Arthur! I don't know…I swear I don't. I don't. Because—Because-you'll be—you'll be togetherrrrAGH!"_

And then came the thump. And the pitter patter. And there she was at the doorframe with wet eyelashes. "Pet, what's wrong?" Eames stood and glided to stand in front of her. The girl tried to look over his shoulder and then around him with the same worry he saw on the helicopter. "Where's Arthur?"

"He's in his room." He brushed the hair on her shoulders to rest on her back.

She swallowed, "Are you sure?"

Eames sauntered across the living area and knocked on the Point's door, "Arthur?" No reply. "Arthur!"

"Yes?" They heard from the other side of the wood. Eames turned around and smiled at the girl, "See?"

"WHAT do you want, Mr. Eames?" Arthur's voice droned agitatedly. The Forger's smile grew even wider, "He's very much there." Then he called through the crack once again, "Oh nothing, just wanted to say your name."

Condescendingly, The Point ordered, "Go to bed."

Eames rolled his eyes and made his way back to Ariadne, "Now tell me what all this is about. You've been having trouble sleeping the past few nights now."

"It's nothing significant." She wiped the drops from her eyes.

"So you always wake up crying?" She stared at him. "I know something's wrong. Arthur usually keeps his distance from you not the other way around."

Ariadne picked at her shirt, "I don't want to talk about it…I want to forget it."

"Alright then." Eames sighed and returned to the couch. If she wanted him to leave her be, he would. He wouldn't push and pound the info out of her like Arthur would. Then her timid figure stood in front of him, blocking the tv and she asked, "Is it alright if I sit here with you for a while?"

"I would never object to that." He patted the cushion and slung his arm on the back of the couch and she gratefully took it. She eventually fell asleep on him. He could tell when Arthur came through for a glass of water that he was suspicious of the sight. But he'd said nothing.  
xxxxxx

The next night, Eames had fallen asleep early. He hadn't woken until he heard a soft knocking on his bedroom door. He pulled on some pants and opened it. No one was there…oh—Ariadne was when he looked down further. She was clutching her totem. No tears were falling but he saw the tracks from where they had. She didn't have to say anything, Eames opened his door wider and stood to the side, "Come on."

The next morning when Arthur woke and surfaced, Eames was already strewn across the couch watching morning talk shows. Arthur paid him no mind and poured himself some coffee. Two creamers, one sugar. While he was mixing, he thought he'd check on the Architect since her door had been left wide open. He could just glance in and see if she was still sleeping or not. When he did, her sleeping figure was missing. "Where's Ariadne?"

"Asleep, genius."

"She's not in her bed." He countered.

"Oh." Eames twisted around to reply, "She's in _my_ bed."

"She's_ where?"_

Bad choice in words and/or bad order of explanation. He should've explained how she got there and _then _said she was there. No doubt it sounded as if they'd—well Eames wouldn't even go there in his mind. If there were ever a time he could recall Arthur's face and neck reddening like a cherry tomato it would pale in comparison to this. There really could've been steam coming from his ears like in those cartoons for kids and if he didn't watch it, he'd probably break that mug he was holding. "Now don't get your panties in a twist, Artie. I slept in the-uncomfortable as sin-chair in the corner. Quite frankly, my spine shall never recover."

"Why would she even be in your room in the first place?" He was less ready to murder Eames now but still suspicious and glaring.

"She just knocked on my door and said she was scared."

"Of what?"

Eames pursed his lips and shrugged like he had no clue. But he did have a clue…Ariadne had opened up and relayed her nightmares to him last night. After hearing them, who wouldn't have let her stay in their room and give up their bed if it would make her feel better? But it wasn't his place to explain it all to Arthur. Not yet anyway.  
xxxxxx

It was nice to have quiet moments to himself. Ariadne had gone to bed shortly after dinner. Her and Eames were watching a movie and she'd been falling asleep during it, so when it went off they suggested she rest. Eames had gone to take a shower. He took longer than women did in there…

It was natural for her to be on his mind. The whole situation revolved around Ariadne. He was working on her passport, looking at her picture, reading her file. He'd known her medical history from the reconnaissance he'd had to perform pre-Inception. He'd known that her parents were divorced and her father had died in surgery but until the other day as he overheard her explain it to Eames, Arthur hadn't known what her life really had been like. On paper, sure. To hear how broken her family was, how hateful and pressuring her mother was, how neglected she must've felt. How could someone with every reason to be flawed be undeniably immaculate? Ariadne had grown up creative, intelligent, intuitive. She had all the confidence and faith you'd expect she'd been stripped of. Her trials had only made her more passionate, more determined, more successful. She'd flourished despite her mother's arrogance, received a scholarship across the globe to study in _Paris, France_ and became the protégé of the infamous Professor Miles. She was witty, she was beautiful, she was talented…Ariadne was perfect. As a perfectionist, Arthur was drawn to perfect. Arthur admired very few people but that girl was one of them.

Arthur had feelings for very few people and irresponsibly, he'd let it get to the point where Ariadne was at the top of that list. You could say that his admiration during Inception turned to infatuation during the jobs following. And after he'd parted with her that last time, after that day in park when he—let's say, until this all had happened she had become an obsession. One he tried to repress with every fiber of his being but no one could deny that ever since she went missing, every thread and every cell in Arthur's body had been focused on her. At times, he would get so jealous that Eames was able to open up to her in ways he couldn't (wouldn't) allow himself to. Her and Eames had a close connection, a special bond that was obvious to any onlooker. She'd chosen Eames as her confidante and had chosen to keep all things hidden from Arthur that she could.

And Cobb. He wasn't even here. But in the back of his mind, Arthur knew that she and Cobb had shared something as well, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Sure he'd introduced her to dreams, he was her first extraction leader but Arthur had been her tutor, her mentor. Ariadne wasn't even supposed to go into dream but Cobb had insisted she come with them. Cobb and Ariadne had often spent late nights at the warehouse together. She'd stuck close with him in the dream, constantly worried about his whereabouts, what he was doing, even going down into limbo with him. Cobb had been the one to call Arthur about Ariadne going missing, Cobb had been the one she called for help.

And then there was Arthur. They shared one dream peck on her first job. They worked well as a team, headed up one job together and then she tutored him in Architecture for another. He'd thought he'd been the only one to keep up contact with her but Eames had showed him up in that. They'd gone to lunch a few times and had two or three nice talks. Great. Big connection there…it was all so stiff and awkward and at arm's length, their relationship. There would be times where he'd notice a certain sparkle in her eye, there would be moments he felt were signature for the two of them. But what was his role in this situation for her? Cobb was the person she wanted to talk to, to help, to hear. Eames was the person she felt comfortable to do all of that with in Cobb's absence. Arthur was…the person she fought with. The overbearing man who thought he was closer to her than he was. The robot that did nothing but hurt her feelings and order her around. It was so hard for him, to want to be that person for her. To want her to trust him and need him and want him there and then be labeled as the bad guy. To watch her laugh and hug and let Eames in right in front of him. He cared too much. And Arthur knew that by caring too much he'd made it impossible for her to care for him.

Care for him in the way he wanted her to. The way he shouldn't want her to.  
xxxxxx

"_Well if it isn't Miss Ariadne…we've been looking for you everywhere."_

_The man stood in her suite, looked at her like he would devour her. Ariadne breathed calmly, looking to the door and hoping Eames and Arthur were quietly sleeping. "Come with us, won't you?"_

_She stayed in her spot. The man leapt across the room and had her up against the wall in one fluid motion. He licked her ear, "That wasn't a question."_

_Bravely, she pushed him off, "Where is my sister?"_

"_Dead." _

_Her eyes widened, he continued, running a hand up her leg, "We had to show you what happens when you disobey us…"_

_Tears prickled her eyes, giving the man too much enjoyment, "Don't worry we have Ganymede now."_

_She tried to push passed the man and get to the door but pain erupted in her foot and she toppled to the ground.  
xxxxxx_

"AGHH!"

"Ari?" Arthur called. He thought he heard someone in her room.  
xxxxxx

_She looked at the culprit, the smoke still rising from the barrel. He stepped over her and opened the door of her bedroom, "Look who else we've found."_

_Arthur was being held down on his knees, hands restrained behind him and one of her scarves gagging him. She sucked in a breath, guilt ripping through her._

"_It's quite a coincidence that Arthur would be here with you, right? Tsk, tsk, Ariadne. You don't know how to follow orders…" _

_The man turned around, grabbed her by the collar and pulled her up, slamming her against the doorframe and revealing a knife, "We'll fix that."_

"_Please don't," She asked knowing it was futile. Then a woman emerged from Arthur's bedroom. Tall, skinny, short brown curls, piercing green eyes that she recognized from Cobb's subconscious. Mal slowly pulled out a knife of her own from behind her back and stood behind Arthur. _

"_Tell me. Do you know what it's like to be a lover?" She traced Arthur's collar bone with the tip of the knife and eyed Ariadne treacherously, "To be one half of a whole?" The shade pressed the tip into Arthur's skin ever so slightly at the nape of his neck. Just enough for a drop of blood to trickle down and stain his nice shirt. Her patience crumbled as she stared into Ariadne's disbelieving eyes. "Well, do you?" Mal raised the knife threateningly towards Ariadne and bared what looked like fangs, "Do you?"_

_The Architect shook her head frantically, breathlessly replying, "No, I don't! I swear, I don't." What was she talking about? Sure Ariadne cared for the Point Man, sure he gave her butterflies and made her skin tingle but they were _hardly _lovers. Why was she doing this to them?_

_Mal's eyes gleamed and before Ariadne knew it, Arthur's throat had been slit. The Architect was the last thing he looked at, as blood rippled into his mouth and he toppled over face forward.  
xxxxxx_

"_Arthur!_ Arthur! Arthur, please!"

It was all he needed to hear. Arthur ran across the room and barged through her door to find Ariadne hysterically bawling. "Ariadne, what's wrong?"

xxxxxx

_Mal and the man laughed at Ariadne's screams. "I'll tell you a riddle."_

"_No!"_

_The man behind her smushed his face to her ear again and whispered, "You're waiting for a train."_

_Mal stepped over Arthur's body and smiled, "A train that will take you far away."_

_Slowly, coming through the front door of their room, from Arthur's room, from Eames' room, coming through the windows, melting in through the air vents, were the suited men that had been chasing her around the globe all joining in. Their faces all twisted into evil grins.  
xxxxxx_

"Arthur, help!"

"Ariadne, I'm here. Wake up." He knelt beside her bed and forcefully shook her shoulder.

Xxxxxx

_One of them walked in front of her, winking, "You think you know where this train will take you…" And another finishes after as he comes through the window, "But you can't know for sure." They all close in on her, closer and closer. She's writhing now to get away, their maniacal eyes smiling at her, "But it doesn't matter." _

"_Tell us why it doesn't matter." Their chorus of voices hurt her ears. "Tell us why it doesn't matter! Tell us why it doesn't matter!" Louder they scream, "Tell us why it doesn't matter!"_

_Their voices are hissing too loud for her eardrums to take and they're swarming. They're coming up through the floorboards and flooding through the doors. They're everywhere and their hands are everywhere, groping and pulling at her. Their voices demanding louder and louder. They're ripping at her limbs and pulling her hair, dragging her to the fountain of blood that Arthur's body had become. Holding her face in front of his stained one, making her look into his lifeless eyes. They've stopped tearing at her body and yet making her look at Arthur like this, making her wish she was dead so she wouldn't have to see him like that was tearing her insides—her heart—to shreds. She wants it to be over. And they're screaming has reached a pitch that sounds like nothing but a continuous piercing note. And finally she breaks and screams at them, finishing the riddle for them.  
_xxxxxx

"Because you'll be together!"

xxxxxx

_She sees the sparkle of metal and feels herself earn the same fate as Arthur's. They slit her throat, too, so they can be together. The last thing she sees is Arthur's body in front of her and she attempts to pull herself to wrap around him for comfort as she asphyxiates on her own blood. But at least they're together.  
_xxxxxx

Ariadne flew forward in her bed, grabbing at her pants to feel her totem, grabbing at her neck to feel the skin there still connected. "Ariadne, you're ok. Ok? Ariadne?"

When she heard his voice, was the first time she registered his presence. Her eyes found his and she stared at him for the longest time in disbelief, tears running down her cheeks.

"What happened?"

She shook her head, refusing to tell Arthur the nature of her dream. She hid her face in hands and continued heaving, the feeling of the dream still sucking on her mind like a leech. She saw a suited man in the doorway out of the corner of her eyes and jumped back against the headboard before she realized it was Eames in fresh clothes, with a wet head. The forger came in and did what Arthur would never feel comfortable doing. He sat on her bad, "What's going on?"

Arthur shortly replied, "Nightmare."

"Which one?" The older man looked at Ariadne.

She pointedly looked at Arthur and then back at Eames. Understanding, Eames took a deep breath and smoothed her hair down, "Everything's fine. She's not here. They're not here. And Arthur is." He took her chin in his big hand and turned it to look at The Point Man, "Not a scratch on him, see?" He turned her head back and released it. "Shake it off." Ariadne nodded and forced herself stop crying and breathe normally.

Arthur felt that familiar feeling of distance between them. Annoyed for a brief second that it was his name she had called for but Eames who calmed her down, Eames who knew (with one look) exactly what was going on. It affected him before he was consciously hit with the notion.

Ariadne felt a warm hand running its way down her arm and capturing all her attention. It stopped at her wrist and held it…gently. Rubbing circles on it. She looked down at Arthur, bewildered. Sneakily, she felt in her pocket for her totem again. It was so unlike Arthur to make personal contact like that. He was rubbing a hole in her wrist, smiling at her with dark eyes and it felt so good. "Would you like it if I made you some hot chocolate? Help you get back to sleep?"

She nodded dumbly. "Ok" he smiled and squeezed her wrist before standing. "Eames?"

Eames knew what Arthur wanted. He, too, got up after asking Ariadne if she would be ok and followed Arthur out to make her drink. "What was her nightmare about? Apparently she'd had it before and she's told you."

"In the strictest of doctor-patient confidence..."

"She was screaming my name." He stated with a worried expression.

Eames sighed and looked to her door before lowering his voice. "All I can say is that they are less than savory…and they may or may not involve Cobb's lovely wife."

Arthur stirs the chocolate into her mug, "I need to get her out of here, I suppose."

"I don't think rushing her out of another country is going to ease the anxiety."

"No but letting her explore the city for once might."

Eames raised his eyebrows, "You won't go through with it."

"I will. I'll check all the airports and trace those bastards down. If we're clear this evening, I don't see how taking her out for dinner and letting her see the lights would hurt. You'll finally be able to exert your sightseeing skills and help get her mind get off of this all for a while."

Cheekily, Eames grinned and sauntered off to his own room, "I don't think I'll join you. I think I'll let you two have a mighty good time, alone." He winked and was gone.  
xxxxxx

Arthur padded into her room again and pulled a chair to bedside. She was sitting against the headboard twirling her totem around him her palms. He sat, stirred the mug a few more times, blew on it and then handed it to her, "Careful, its hot."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Sweetheart."

Ariadne half smiled, half laughed and then took a sip of the hot chocolate, "I suppose I have you wrapped around my finger now, don't I?"

He chuckled, "You're not the only one helpless to good looks." She rolled her eyes…The Point waited for her to finish her cup before he inquired, "What was your nightmare about?"

Ariadne stilled. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Eames knows…" Her eyes met his apologetically but they were unwavering. She trusted the Forger more; that's all there was to it. He relented, "I just want to understand." She dropped her eyes, her voice also took a free fall. She murmured mostly to herself, "I just want to forget…"

Arthur pushed a bit further, sure he could get her to disclose the events of her dream. Besides if he didn't learn anything else he needed to know—"Was I hurting you? In the dream?" She avoided his eyes and shook her head no. That was a relief…"Were those men hurting you?" She avoided his eyes and shook her head no. Evidently, he wasn't going to get much out of her. He would pry no further. The last thing he wanted was to force her into talking and have her upset with him. Crestfallen, he retrieved her empty mug and started to leave her room.

"They were hurting_ you_." She called when he was fixing to turn the knob on her door. The Point sat down again soundlessly, letting her continue. "They were everywhere. Coming up from the floors, in from the windows…and then Mal showed up." His eyebrows furrowed. "And she had you on your knees…and they made me watch her slit your throat." His eyes widened…through the darkness he could see the glistening of water on her lashes. Her voice started to quiver, "They dragged me over to sit in front of you and watch the blood dribble out of your mouth and down your chin; I had to watch it pool and bubble at your throat—"

"God…" he breathed. She paid no mind and kept going, "You tried to ask me over and over again why I let it happen and I couldn't give you an answer and they shoved my face to yours and made me listen to you choke on your blood—they made me watch your eyes glaze over." Her voice finally broke. Arthur could hear the ache in her throat that she tried to keep at bay but he could see the drops of water running down her cheeks, now. He had an intense urge to wipe them away but kept his hands to himself. "I don't remember much else except that it hurt. It hurt _so _much and they weren't even touching me. I just wanted to be dead." Her eyes suddenly found his again and the connection, the rawness of her emotion reaching out to him was severe. Arthur fought to keep his own eyes from watering. It was like somehow her agony had been transferred to his body, somehow when he looked in her eyes he could feel what she felt. "I wanted to be dead like you. And it was like she read my mind because she walked over and slit mine too." The tears bubbled over with more fervor as she remembered, "It was the worst, piercing pain…and I could feel it filling my lungs and I coughed and coughed and I knew I was drowning in my own blood-"

"Ari…" Finally his hand tentatively but consolingly rested on her shoulder.

She left his eye contact again and stared at her lap. Ariadne whispered, halfway hoping he wouldn't be able to hear her revelation, "But when I looked at you and saw you lying dead next to me, I stopped fighting it. It stopped hurting. I wanted to die…like you…"

He had heard it and it meant more to him than anything she'd ever said had. It meant that losing him had hurt her; in effect, he meant something to her. But it also unnerved him…because he knew he felt the same. That if he had to watch someone slit her throat…if something happened to her he would want to die too. It brought him back to the thoughts he'd had in the airport at the wedding. If he cared for her that much and their relationship was barely that of friends…what would it do to both of them if they gave in and let themselves be more. Be each other's everything. She interrupted his thoughts with another whisper, "That's what scares me the most."

He should've found a way to end the conversation and bid her goodnight. But he softened his face for her and offered, "Would you like me to sit in here with you for the night?"

"That chair would be too uncomfortable for you."

"I'll manage. Or I'll make a pallet."

She agreed sheepishly then. He left to get a pillow and some sheets, as he made a spot on the floor near the foot of her bed he brought the outing up, "I have a proposition for you."

"Hm?"

"If I can trace all those tickets that followed us to Brazil and find that none of them are here yet…How would you like for Eames and I to take you out…have a nice dinner for a change, let you explore Sydney?"

She crawled to the foot of the bed to stare him down excitedly, "I would love it! We absolutely have to see the Opera House! Could we walk along the harbor, I've always wanted to see the boats lit up at night…I wonder if Australia has a significant style to their cuisine like Mexican and Chinese and Italian food. Maybe its-"

"On one condition," He Point Man voice ordered and she silenced, looked at him expectantly. He broke the façade and laughed, "You get some rest."

After one last pearly white flash, she dashed back to the head of her bed, climbed under the sheets and got comfortable on her side, eyes shut. Arthur finished preparing his pallet—shaking his head and letting his dimples show- and laid his head on his pillow. In an ecstatic, half asleep drawl Ariadne murmured, "Goodnight,Arthur_."_

It sounded so angelic when she murmured it in semi-consciousness. Her voice soft, sweet and far off. Arthur couldn't help but reply, "Sweet Dreams, Ari."

xxxxxx

Hmm…so they're (or at least Ariadne) is getting closer and closer and falling a lit bit more for Arthur at least subconsciously. Isnt it sweet that losing him in the dream hurt her that bad? Le sigh…Ooh lala…I forsee a little AxA alone time next chappie.

Pretty pretty please leave a review so I can make that happen. ;)


	15. You're the Devil in Disguise

Jesus Christ, this chapter is nearly 6,500 words…you guys deserve it though. Hope it's not too long! Since it is though, I apologize for any errors…I proofread it like 5 times but I guess after reading it over and over you tend to overlook things. :/

Aside from our OTP…the lovely Ariadne and sharp as a tack Arthur, the motivators for this chapter were the amazing: _Heimarmene, Lani, feelthefreedom, Legal-Assassin-006, I love you Roza, MetroHarbor, Miss Ariadne, latoulousaine, .85, PrincessLove123, Tenshi Karyane, silliana, TheKelsieGrim, insanityisgenius _and _Dryad Warrior Queen!_

**Chapter 15- Devil in Disguise.**

She didn't dress in anything fancy but she still looked nice. The darker jeans of the two he'd gotten way back and a sweet button down, hair in their natural curls that framed her face. Naturally, as Arthur came out of his suite (he'd had to press his suit to go out and re –gel his hair) and stuck his gun in its holster Ariadne was on the couch with Eames, talking away.

"Why aren't you coming?"

Eames made an excuse, "Because I want to spend my free day at a bar full of easy Sheilas, Darling, and Arthur didn't deem that an appropriate outing."

She frowned, "Suit yourself. We'll miss you."

"I wouldn't count on that." Arthur jabbed.

Her smile had no containment as she looked at the Point Man, excitement bursting at her seams, "I'm ready when you are."  
xxxxxx

He insisted on renting a car from the hotel's car service and drove to the main hub to walk around and find a place for dinner. "What sounds good?" Arthur asked.

"What's Australia known for?" Ariadne looked around quizzically and heard Arthur answer, "Vegemite?"

She gave him a look and then tugged him to the corner store. Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting on a curb with a loaf of bread and a jar of vegemite. Two sandwiches made and waiting for them. "One" Ariadne looked at him and raised her sandwich to her mouth. "Two" Arthur did the same. "Three!" She called and they sunk their teeth into the local delicacy.

Ariadne's face scrunched up and she chewed slower and slower. She looked at Arthur and he was power munching to gulp it down. She hadn't swallowed yet when Arthur turned to her, "God, that's disgusting."

She coughed and then swallowed, "It's horrible."

"They were kidding when they said it was an acquired taste…" He wiped his mouth and held out his hand to take the remainder of her sandwich. She handed it over hastily—still coughing—and he tossed them in the garbage. He tossed the loaf of bread as well while she stood. Arthur was fixing to toss the vegemite when, "Wait!" He turned to her, perplexed. "Let's make Eames eat it." She took it from his hand and shoved it in her bag with a devilish grin.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, would you like to eat somewhere edible?" He smirked. She nodded enthusiastically. "Lead the way, then." Ariadne closed her eyes, spun around and pointed. She'd landed on a restaurant proudly named 'Smackin Outbackin.' It turned out to be a very authentic steakhouse. She'd ordered a wedge salad and a heaping Bleu Burger while Arthur opted for a Caesar and a Rib eye. At first he'd tried to make small talk by teasing Eames' choice of dining and complimenting her shirt (That she reminded him, he bought). As they were chatting he caught her eye marveling at the building they were in and found an alternative topic he was sure she'd immerse herself into. "So tell me about the architecture of this place."

That was the magic button. Her eyes sparked and she started pointing out different areas to him, spouting out ideas, asking his opinion on it all. She talked all through dinner and all as they walked down the sidewalk together. Arthur wondered if she'd noticed they'd even left the restaurant. When he could get a word in edgewise, he pulled her down a side street and into view of the Sydney Opera House like she'd asked the night previous. He watched her lips part in awe, her eyes sparkle, watched the wheels turn in her head while her eyes roamed every curve and line of it. "It's incredible," She breathed after several minutes, "Pictures do it no justice." He just smiled.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What?" It caught the Point Man off guard.

She turned her head and looked up at him with questions, "Going out for dinner, exploring in Sydney. I mean two days ago you threw me over your shoulder and dragged me back to the room like a sack of potatoes for stepping in the hallway…"

He shrugged, "Eames argued you needed a stress reliever after last night. I traced all of those tickets that followed us to Brazil and none have come to Australia yet. Since the coast is clear, I don't see why you can't have one night of fun. I have my gun…and if all else fails, our characters from the wedding are believable enough to blend into surroundings, should anyone ambush the area."

A glint entered her eye, "So you're saying…as long as I can blend in, I can do whatever I want?"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. That's not what he meant, no. He backtracked, "Not necessarily, that's very open, vague."

She lifted her chin and rephrased, "Ok, more specifically, as long as I play Grace? I can do anything I want as long as I hold your hand and pretend to be in love with you…"

_God, yes. _He wouldn't have a choice then. Narrowing his eyes, he playfully retorted, "Pretend? Aren't you?"

She stepped closer to him, giving him _those_ eyes and smiling at him like he was the only person that could garner one from her, "It depends…As Grace with Russell or as Ariadne with Arthur?"

Her eyebrow flicked upward and his stomach danced around in circles. In desperation to make her stomach a whirlpool like she had his, Arthur looked into her eyes like he would devour her and tickled her with his breath, "Quick, give me a kiss."

She bit her lip but remained unmoving. The Architect strategically kept the inch of distance between their mouths. "Are we playing pretend again?"

He huffed an answer. A yes just to satisfy her mind so she'd oblige him with a repetition of the Fischer Hotel. He smirked and jutted his head to close the space when Ariadne backed up another inch, "N-n-no. That's Ariadne and Arthur's inside joke, remember?"

"Fine, we're _us_." He grazed his fingers along her neck to anchor her head and pulled her closer. She tilted her head, parted her lips and then-tortured him like she did in the airport and stepped away, pacing. "So you said 'just one _night_' which means I get the whole night to get the exploration out of my system…which means I can still do anything, right?"

"Within reason." The Point Man was back once he'd had enough space between them to form coherent thoughts again.

She chewed her lip, deep in thought, "_Sweetheart?_ ", again mocking his nickname for her from the wedding. She mustn't have known that he would absolutely melt if she called him that. That he couldn't deny her anything when that pet name danced off her lips. Or maybe she did and she was using it against him. "Will you take me to Sydney's Great Aquarium?"

He deadpanned. She could do anything. Anything at all in Sydney, Australia and she wanted to go to, "The aquarium?"

Then she teased, "You're right. I should've chosen something more dangerous, huh? We should go bungee jumping." She began walking determinedly back through the sidestreet.

"Let's go to the aquarium, I like the aquarium." Arthur tried to pedal backward.

"Or night skydiving or a male strip club…I've never been."

Arthur strained, "Aquarium sounds good."

She talked over him, "The shooting range!" She turned around and spoke as she walked backwards, "And I'll hop around like a kangaroo and try to dodge everyone's bullets."

He put his hand on her mouth and pushed her against the back of one the buildings, "I'll take you to the Aquarium." His eyes shining. Their stomachs lightly brushed through the fabric of their shirts. Enough to emit static electricity in the air around them. He felt her lips move against his skin and sear through it—like she was branding him-she replied, "Fair enough."

His took his hand off and motioned for her to walk ahead of him. She licked her lips, hopped away from the wall and essentially trotted to their vehicle with nary a care in the world. He followed watching her curls bounce. He opened the car door for her before getting in himself. Next stop: Sydney's Great Aquarium. "Your hand tasted like vegemite…" she stated factually as she buckled.

He just chuckled.  
xxxxxx

"Sir, we close in thirty minutes." As if the sentence wasn't self-explanatory, the employee had to point to the clock hanging on the wall that also housed the souvenir towels and blankets.

Arthur reasoned, "There's just two of us."

"Oh, I have no problem letting you in but I'm not sure it'll be worth your while…"

"Well, she'll be happy," Arthur nodded to the Architect whose mind was with the dolphins in the glass behind the front desk, "So it will be."

The host was hesitant about taking Arthur's money, "It's a big aquarium, Sir. You may not even see a quarter of it."

He looked at Ariadne; her face hid the disappointment well as she shrugged, "It's fine. We can just go back to the hotel."

Arthur turned to the host and shoved the money back in his face, "We'll accept the challenge."

She wasn't expecting that. She didn't know whether to furrow her eyebrows or smile, so she did both. The guy at the counter handed them their passes and a color coded map and they started the countdown.  
xxxxxx

"Twenty minutes…we can do this." Arthur looked at his watch and pointed to the glass he passed, "Jellyfish. Interesting."

"Stop walking so fast!"

He stopped and turned around. Ariadne was nearly three exhibits behind and power walking. Tripping over herself, legs stretching far beyond their capability. Amused, he raised an eyebrow and teased, "Time is ticking away."

Breathless she came to stop in front of him, "Ha…Ha…I have magnificently shorter legs that you, so…"  
xxxxxx

"No that's weird." She let go and dropped herself down.

Arthur pivoted around, neck slightly flushed, "How so?"

"Your suit jacket. I'm going to wrinkle it."

"Don't worry about it; That's why I paid for a steam presser in our room."

She narrowed her eyes at the crinkle on the back she'd created already. "It's awkward." Arthur pursed his lips and looked absentmindedly at the jellyfish again.  
xxxxxx

They figured it out, eventually. Now Arthur was taking long fast strides through all the exhibits. Ariadne, wearing his suit jacket, just enjoyed the ride. Enjoyed seeing the inspiring marine life, enjoyed the tunnels of water they magically passed through, enjoyed her arms around Arthur's neck and her head by his. It was faster and they could cover more ground if she just piggybacked him, as unconventional as it seemed. Not that their closeness was a deciding factor in any manner. Arthur could feel her breath tickle his ear and when she laughed, he not only heard it but it filled him. "I'm not getting heavy, am I?"

"It's like I'm carrying nothing," He turned his head closer to the side hers was by. Her nose barely touched the place between his ear and his cheek and it sent his mind reeling.

Ariadne kidded, "You're such a liar…" She pointed, "Look, turtles!" Then she swatted him, "Arthur, you're not even looking anymore."

"We have twelve minutes and half an aquarium to cover."

She rolled her eyes. She swore he'd started out enjoying it but it had turned into a race against time. Ariadne was sure he had a schedule of what exhibit to pass when so they could see the whole thing. He made her hold the map…obviously he was missing the point. It wasn't that they saw the entire aquarium; it was that they enjoy what they did. She casually dropped the map and waited until he'd passed a few more tanks before, "Shoot!"

"What?"

"I dropped the map back there." He stopped, let her down and promised to be right back before jogging back to get it.

He turned around. Gone. The hell? The glass tunnel hallways were empty. "Ari?" He jogged down to the fork in the exhibit. One side dolphins, one side sharks. She'd most likely be where it was more exciting. He looked down the Shark's side and saw her all the way down at the end of that exhibit looking above her head, tapping the glass. A hammerhead happily stared down at her. "Ari, what are you doing—"

Ariadne responded by looking at him, humming innocently and then walking the other direction. Of course he followed, transporting himself down the walkway, "Ariadne…Ari whe—" He turned the corner to see her halfway down the Great White exhibit. He walked faster to catch up. She looked back and after seeing him gaining on her, broke into a run. Of course she would—in a public place none the less. He let her reach the end of the tunnel and turn right before he—after looking around first- gave chase. It took little time for his long legs to catch up with her, she made turn after turn, fish and piranhas and coral whizzing past. Despite himself, a smile broke onto his face when he finally found her. Ariadne was quietly standing and admiring the penguins. Arthur stopped at the back of the exhibit and crept up behind her. His training in stealth was good for more dream sharing. At the optimal time, he wrapped his arms around her waist, "Gotcha."

She jerked involuntarily and gasped before she realized it was him, "Holy shit, Arthur! What is wrong with you? Can you imagine what went through my head when a suited man grabbed me from behind…?"

He let go like wildfire, "Oh, I'm sorry…I didn't even think abo—"

Ariadne couldn't forge a glower any longer. Her satisfaction at making him squirm radiated. As she did every time he began to speak and give her a taste of her own medicine, she turned and changed the subject. "Look at her…" She pointed to the penguin directly in front of them. "I named her Double Stuff."

He stood closer than necessary when he rested his hand on the rail beside her and looked over her shoulder. "Why, because she's heavier?"

"No." She defended. "Well, sort of. They all look like Oreos when you turn your head," The Architect tilted hers accordingly, "And she's the fluffiest so naturally…."

He nodded in response, "Come on," He touched her elbow to guide her away, "We have six minutes and the last quarter of the aquarium to see."

"Let's not rush…I barely remember the first half of the exhibit."

He joked, "You know, I'm beginning to think that race against time and short leg excuse was just a ruse to get on my back."

Her mouth formed a flawless 'O', "You've figured out my plan…I just wanted to be closer to you…" She simpered over her shoulder at him.

What went through his head and possessed him to do what he did next has not been uncovered to this day. _"Heaven knows how you lied to me—"_

"What?" It made absolutely no sense. She spun around to watch him fully.

"_You look like an angel…Walk like an angel…"_

Ariadne's eyes widened, "What are you doing?"

"_Talk like an angel…but I got wise…"_

"Arthur…" She warned.

Uncharacteristically, he copied the Forger's sidestep move. His fingers started snapping, his eyes crinkled. "_You're the Devil in Disguise. Yes you are—" _He bellowed.

She giggled, "Oh My God, Stop."

"_Devil in Disguise," _The Point took her hands and shook them around, attempting to make her dance along, "_Mmm mmhm." _

"Arthur!"

"What? Not only do you tolerate but encourage Eames' ear splitting screeching," Her guffaw interrupted him so he talked over her, "but I can't serenade you with the King of Rock?"

Ariadne was completely bewildered. "Well…yeah but—" She rose to her tiptoes and laid her hand on his forehead, "Are you feeling ok? This is _so _not you."

"Never felt better." He laughed.

"Who are you and what have you done with my Point Man."

"_Yours?_" He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that confirmed Eames had rubbed off on him.

The Architect started shaking her head. Beaming but befuddled. It wasn't like him at all. Any of it. Actually chasing her through the aquarium, teasing with her and for God's sakes—singing? "What has gotten into you?"

In those five words, the Point Man was back. The boyish, playfulness was gone and the seriousness set in. He stilled his hyperactive moving around and put his hands in his pockets. The Man she was used to was back—sharp, suave-except for the cloy look in his eyes when they fixed on hers. "She's standing in front of me."

Just as her five words had quieted him and made him contemplate, his six words had done the same to her. The beam had dimmed. There was hope she didn't dare to grasp…With a gulp, she pointed with her thumb and nodded behind her—"You mean Double Stuff? I know she can have that effect on people…" Her words trailed into nothing and she bit her lip as their faces gravitated closer.

"No…you know who I mean…" Once he followed her eye line and realized she was looking at his lips, self-preservation went out the window. He leaned in, Ariadne followed suit. But on the cusp…on the verge of meeting each other's lips an employee found them and asked them kindly to start leaving; that they were closing in five minutes. They got back in the car, Ariadne with a new tshirt and penguin blanket in possession. Before they retired to the hotel for the evening, Ariadne pleaded for one last stop at a frozen yogurt joint. Arthur wasn't much for sweets and the quirky colored lights and oddly shaped furniture gave him a headache but he stopped that last stop and paid for her a huge cup. On their walk back to the car she offered him a bite, "Try it, Arthur."

"I don't care for wild flavors."

"Watermelon is a wild flavor?" She pulled the spoon from her mouth and dipped it again.

He nodded, "That and…is that caviar?" He grimaced.

"No it's strawberry Boba," She talked to him as if he were an idiot and then dipped the spoon again and pushed it in front of his face, "Try it."

They stopped mid-walk. Arthur didn't reach up his hand to take it though she pointed the handle towards him. It was an immature thought: the thought that Ariadne's lips had touched the utensil and he felt he couldn't do the same. His reasoning was childish; would it be symbolic? Would it seem as intimate a gesture to her as it was to him? Sharing a spoon…would it lead to sharing other things? Like what they'd almost shared twice tonight.

"I don't have a disease if that's what you're worried about," shook him out of his thoughts. Bravely he took it from her and tasted the yogurt. Surprisingly, it was an explosion of deliciousness. His eyebrows shot up and a smirk covered his face. She took it back from him, "Mhm…see," and she dove another spoonful into her mouth.

She was oblivious to the affect her actions had on him. Three thoughts clouded his mind impractically: He'd just used that spoon. Her lips were now all over it. He was jealous of that damn spoon. Ariadne resumed her trek to the car, slowly enjoying her yogurt. (Slowly torturing the Point Man without even knowing.) Her eyes were on the lights and the buildings and skies and his on her lips and only her lips. His mind only thinking about how close his had been to hers. How if he'd only caught her thirty seconds before…they wouldn't have been interrupted. How good would it have felt? His mouth was suddenly dry. When was the last time he'd broke into a fever from such feelings? He tried hard to swallow and tear his eyes away. Unfortunately, they landed on her damn twinkling eyes and those eyelashes. He knew she had to blink; it wasn't like she was doing it just to drive him crazy, right? Thank the Lord, they reached the car. Ever the gentleman, Arthur opened the door for her (his mask intact, mind you) and dared to look into those beautiful brown orbs.

"Thank you, _Sweetheart."_ She bantered.

_She was trying to kill him._ It was evident. She was trying to make his heart beat itself to death. She was put on this earth to destroy every ounce of his better judgment. He took a deep breath outside, before sitting into the car and starting the engine.  
xxxxxx

When they got back to the hotel, they decided to come in through the back (Ariadne pushed for it especially because she wanted to stay out of the hotel room for as long as possible. Since their hotel was on harbor, The Parking Lot near the back was situated near the docks where people could rent out boats or pay for tours. There was a large white gate that closed off the parking area from everything from the sea to the structure of the hotel. You had to be inside of the hotel area to even gain access to the docks—smart thinking on the Hotel's franchiser's part. Access was acquired through one's room key and this was how the Point Man and Architect got in. Where they entered was the raised upper deck of the pool area. A rocky waterfall protruded from the hotel's outside wall, the rocks acting a somewhat of a roof for the pool bar. The water acted like a curtain keeping the bar from the hectic world of the pool in the daytime and flowed into the pool on the deck below. It was impressive. While making their way into the building and walking through the bar, Ariadne may have nudged Arthur in line of the rushing waters. She had ignored the 'Careful, do not play or maneuver around the mouth of the falls' sign. His suit now splashed and his hair wet, he turned to her with an evil eye. The impish little Parisian she shrugged her shoulders innocently and began swaying…"_I look like an angel…." _With an exaggerated strut that—God, the things they picked up from Eames—_"Walk like an angel…" _She hummed through the next few phrases because she hadn't remembered what the lyrics were but then started randomly dancing, "_I'm the devil in disguise!" _Arthur cockily picked her up by the waist and slung her around to set her directly under the falling water.

She shrieked and slipped, "Agh! Arthur!" And then in a fatal swoop he hadn't foreseen, fell backwards out of sight and in few seconds caused a splash. The humor was gone. Arthur pulled out his wallet and phone, threw them on the floor, kicked off his shoes and then dove through the waterfall and down the few feet after her. When he surfaced he shook his hair to the side and treaded water, spinning in circles to spot her. And a few feet away…her brunette head was bobbing, motionless in water. With godlike speed he forward stroked to her, held her head out of the water and transported her to the side. There were no gashes or blood but a head could be bumped the wrong way to cause someone to pass out. Arthur laid her on the side of the pool and then crouched down beside her. The water ran down her face like tears, and her eyes were shut…he held his hand in from of her nose to check for breath and there was none, thankfully her pulse was still intact…Full of worry, he tilted her head back, pinched her nose close and leaned down to perform CPR.

Ariadne burst out in laughter and took some generous breaths. Those mischievous eyes looked up at him again, "Gotcha!" She giggled.

At that point, Arthur needed a couple generous breaths of his own to let the relief sink in, "That was _not _funny. How did you even hold your breath that long?"

"Um duh," She rolled her eyes and in the process rolled over to lie on top of Arthur, "Swim team. 4th-10th grade. Did that not show up on your reconnaissance?"

To say Arthur had been caught off guard would have been the understatement of the year. All of a sudden, he was looking up at her and she was pressed into him. And it was wrong, all wrong because the position was inappropriate. It was distasteful. And yet, he didn't think they were close enough. He rolled on top of her. "Actually, I'm sure it did. I just hadn't thought it important enough to commit to memory."

Ariadne's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, "Your mistake…I wonder what else you've skipped over."

"Nothing gets past me…"

"Even my engagement?"

"Your what?" His eyes darted to her left hand and she took the opportunity to roll on top of his again, "…you're really gullible tonight Point Man…" She teased.

He could do it. All it would take would be raising his elbows to rest on them. He wouldn't even have to lean in. In one swift shift of position he could kiss that conceited smirk right off of her face. But they heard a faint ringing up above…"Ten bucks says Eames is drunk dialing you..." And with that, her warm, cozy, feathery body had lifted itself off of him and started walking up the deck's stairs. Arthur exhaled heavily, manually placed the Point Man façade back in use and followed like the episode had no effect on him.  
xxxxxx

When he'd approached her she'd already answered it for him, "Cobb?" Ariadne repeated. "Hey! Yes, it's me. I'm fine. No really, I am. Yeah, Arthur and Eames found me thanks to _someone,_" she accused lightheartedly. "No I wouldn't have admitted I needed help anyway, so it was smart of you two. Thank you. How are you?" She giggled, "Hopefully, this will all be over soon. How are James and Philippa?" She gasped, "Oh no! I forgot! Crap, I feel so bad, I promised her I'd be there. I know… Well tell her I would if I could and when I come visit again we're wearing matching outfits, going to Disney Land and then I'll take her to buy whatever arts and crafts her heart desires and we'll have a big double digit girl's day. Sure!"

Arthur's ears were perked. He gestured for her to walk and they started the trek back to their room. He hadn't realized Ariadne was so close with Cobb's family. Sure she followed Cobb around like a puppy in the dream but she seemed to have important relationships with his kids as well. And next time she visits them? She'd visited Cobb and his kids in LA? How many times had she visited for them become so attached to her?

"Hi James! Mhm." Her tone grew higher and bubblier, "Good! Yup, so you have to keep practicing your sword fighting. Me and Pippa against you and Daddy. Ok, have fun! Love you too." She smiled. "Hey will you put Daddy back on the phone? James? Hey Ja—oh, oh ok. Hello?"

"Yeah, Arthur and Eames are taking good care of me. I won't; I'll be home before you know it. Alright…oh, do you want to talk to Arthur? Ok, then. I will I promise. Love you too. Bye."

The ride up the elevator was silent between them. 'Love you too'? What the hell did that mean? Cobb and Ariadne said that to each other? James and Pippa tell her that? She visits them and they miss her and she's part of their family…and fuck, why didn't Cobb tell him? Why didn't Ariadne tell him? Eames probably knew…How could he? Cobb _knew. _Cobb _knew _the attraction Arthur had to Ariadne from the day she walked in the warehouse. Cobb was the one to warn Arthur about it first. When Arthur had started to book her on job after job with him Cobb had ordered, 'Don't get attached. Don't let yourself have those feelings for her.' And now Arthur knew why. Cobb fucking wanted her for himself. Cobb wanted her to fulfill the fantasy in his head. She was just like Mal: Petite, architect, nurturing, curious. How could he? How fucking could he?  
xxxxxx

Arthur stood at the door, not moving from his position until she sat on the couch. Eames wasn't back from his late night partying yet (not that they expected them to be). He meant to silently follow but a question popped out instead. "Why did you call Cobb…when you were in Texas, by yourself? Out of all of us?"

"Yusuf wouldn't be help, I didn't have Eames' number and I didn't want to be yelled at."

"Meaning?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Meaning… more often than not, you live by the rulebook. I didn't want to be reprimanded for calling you before the trial period was over. I figured you'd either ignore my call or be pissed if you answered."

If that statement struck a chord it didn't show. His expression stayed collected and unfazed, "You didn't think that of Cobb?"

She scoffed, "Cobb will make a rule one second and bend it the next."

"I'll bend rules if there is reason to. I'm not so coldhearted and robotic to deny you help." Arthur swallowed at his allusion to having emotions but kept staring as if he hadn't said a word.

Ariadne felt like she was putting him in a position where he had to defend himself so she tried to shrug off the matter. "He's just the first person I thought of."

Staying calm, "Yet he's not the one who dropped everything to scour the world over for you."

She stated matter-of-factly, "He couldn't," then pulled her knees to her chest comfortably, "He has James and Phillipa, I didn't expect him to."

Always calm, "Exactly. He couldn't do anything. It wasn't logical for you to call him."

The architect didn't understand why she should've analyzed who to call, why there needed to be strict logic and sound reasoning behind a call. He sat across from her on the couch, "I just needed to hear a comforting voice in that moment. It wasn't about who could do what."

He sighed deeply and deepened their eye contact, "Ariadne. You're a wonderful young woman…and Cobb may be over his guilt but he will always be in love _with Mal._" The extra emphasis was put on 'Mal's' name to bring that lady to the forefront of Ariadne's mind. She was Cobb's wife, she was the reason Cobb was so broken up. Mal couldn't be replaced and he wanted to pressure Ariadne for trying.

What was he getting at? "I don't-"

"I understand that his heartbreak over her seems romantic… And he's got two kids who need a mother figure and women find that attractive. But…"

Ariadne's countenance dropped as she realized what he was alluding to. "Wait. You do-"

"…I wouldn't get your heart set on it. You need someone who…"

"You don't think-"

"…isn't already—"

She stopped his train of thought in its tracks, "Oh my God, Cobb?"

"You stuck to him like glue during Inception, I just assumed—"

She tried to stifle her laughter, "You think I'm _in love_ with _Cobb?_"

Arthur uncomfortably shifted in his position, "You did tell him you loved him over the phone…"

"The last person I talked to was Miles and don't you dare go there…he's like my grandfather….Wow, for a man of detail, you're very dense." Her eyes were still alight with laughter, her eyebrows arched in disbelief.

He cleared his throat, "Well from my viewpoint, you could understand how I would misinterpret your relationship with him."

"I mean…we're close, yeah but I hardly think we give off that passionate vibe. He's like my big brother, if anything. Yusuf is married, I'm close to him. Eames and I are super close…that doesn't mean I have a thing bubbling inside of me when I see him."

Arthur hadn't remembered drinking any alcohol to loosen him up tonight but the questions kept popping out without his conscious consent. "And are we close?"

"Sufficiently, I guess."

He tried to gather proof, make it sound better to his ears. "I feel like we've gotten closer over the past couple jobs. We've formed a pretty comfortable partnership and we work well together…"

"I would hope so," Her tone was now sarcastic, "It's all we ever do together, so we should."

"Tonight wasn't work related."

"No it was: 'I've got to save Ariadne's stressed and crumbling psyche' related." She shrugged like it didn't matter.

"I know it's hard being around me so much. I'm boring, logistic, closed off and reserved and you're nothing if not open, spontaneous and curious. I know that's why we butt heads all the time."

Ariadne's mood dropped, "We're different; I got it."

"Exactly. You're everything I wish I could be. You exude everything I'm incapable of exuding. That's why I admire you."

Did Arthur just say he admired her? Did Arthur just open up and reveal an important part of his thoughts? She looked at him quizzically. Did he know he just opened a can of worms? Did he know that sentence would keep her up tonight, replaying and analyzing itself? He just fueled the flames. Arthur just gave Ariadne hope…and that would swell until it burst on its own or he popped it.

"Maybe we don't sing obnoxiously loud together, maybe we don't tease constantly, maybe we only interact during dream share jobs…but I would hope my actions leading up to this point would prove me worthy to be in such a league with Cobb and Eames."

If that didn't melt her heart than nothing could. He always did this. He always said things that made her pulse race and the ideas in her head swim. The thought of him wanting to be close to her, wanting her to consider him someone close…it did things to her. She wanted to curse him for having such dark, hypnotizing eyes. When he looked at her like that (the way she was sure was only for her) she could see the gentleness that no one else got to see. She saw the human buried inside of him. If only once he would look at her like that long enough for her to peel away the layer that concealed his feelings; the heart she was sure the tin man had to have. It never lasted long enough though, she was lucky if she could catch it between her blinks but it was there. And it was that challenge, that mystery of whether he could actually feel or not that made her interested in him in the first place. And it was those looks, those lightly placed touches on her skin, those moments where he wasn't able to hide from her that had made her develop certain feelings…certain ideas about how they could be something more. They should be. It was instinct for her.

"I feel safer with you than I do with anyone else. I trust you with my life, Arthur. If that's not close, I don't know what is."

Jealousy for Cobb and Eames died with that sentence. "I think I'm going to head to bed." She stood and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. She purposefully kissed it like she would kiss Eames' to lessen suspicion. "Night."

And so Ariadne became his weakness. And so Superman began to fall for his Kryptonite.  
xxxxxx

"Jealous of our favorite extractor, are we?" Eames sauntered out of his room.

Arthur grabbed his gun and turned before identifying the shadow, "Jesus, Eames. When did you get back?"

"I barely left, Pumpkin. I was gone an hour at most." Arthur just glared at Eames so the forger continued, "What on earth possessed you to ask about her feelings towards Cobb?"

"It just came up." The Point Man tried to skirt around it.

"Like hell it did. You want to know what I think?" Eames went to play with Arthur's pocket squares.

Arthur swatted him away, "No."

"I think," Arthur rolled his eyes. The forger was getting on his soapbox, "that sometime during the past three jobs, Ariadne put a chink in your armor and a little love bug wiggled its way in. And that love bug laid some eggs and now you've got a million little love bugs screaming her name squirming around in there." He poked Arthur's chest.

Arthur's face turned to stone. He blinked, "You, Mr. Eames, are ridiculous."

"And you, Mr. Arthur, are in love with her." Eames made googly eyes at him.

"Love is a strong word."

The Forger cheekily grinned, "Yes it is but you aren't denying it."  
xxxxxx

"_Do you know what it's like to be a lover?" The voice hissed in the darkness. Heavily accented, feminine, sinister. Mal._

_She whispered back with fervor, "No…I swear, I don't." The water pooled at her feet and flooded higher and higher…it was knee deep._

"_You want him to be yours." _

_Ariadne couldn't see anything but black in every direction but she felt the water building and wetting her clothes. "I don't know who you're talking about." The sound of water rushing and pouring into what she guessed was a room became louder, like it was by her head, like she was standing under a waterfall. The water was up to her waist._

"_You're taking over part of him. Your lines are blurring into one, Ariadne…" Up past her chest._

_The water bubbled over her shoulder, "No they're not. We're not like that!"_

_Then Ariadne's back was pressed against something hard, a wall maybe. The water was up to her neck and rising fast. A large, rough hand covered her mouth and lips rested against her ear. "Don't lie to me…" _

_The Architect shivered at the sound of the Point Man's voice. Then she welcomed the water in her lungs as it covered her head and she felt his lips on her neck.  
_xxxxxx

Next chapter we get to welcome panic and action back into our lives =) Please review mon amis!  
Pretty _pretty _please?


	16. Yes, She Was

Guess who I love today? Haha: _daniitarazona, feelthefreedom, Legal-Assassin-006, Dryad Warrior Queen, LeslieSophia, memis, Miss Ariadne, idgetsleazy4georgeweasley. _

**Chapter 16- Yes, She Was.**

The next day passed by merrily. Ariadne was joyous like it was Christmas morning or something-the effect of her night out- the boys supposed. She seemed refreshed and pleased to do whatever they suggested. She'd woken up early and eaten breakfast and sketched at the table with them. (After she and Eames had playfully fought over the last bowl of CoaCoa Puffs.) For lunch, Ariadne conned Eames into eating a vegemite sandwich which royally backfired. The Forger had enjoyed the classic Australian delicacy and entertained himself by grossing Ariadne and Arthur out by taking a spoon and eating it straight from the jar. A few gags, laughs and complaints later, Arthur ordered he and Ariadne room service and The Point Man did inventory while Ariadne and Eames watched some Turner Classic Movies. Their adventure for that day hadn't started until just before dinner.

They had decided on Po Boys and salads for dinner and Arthur had called them up. Because Arthur was overly cautious and always called the front desk from the hallway phones provided and never allowed the food to be delivered to their room but left by the elevators, Arthur had gone to pick up and had just returned. He set the bags on the counter and set to finding silverware and napkins while Ariadne got up from her spot on the couch and poured them each a drink. Eames as always was lazy and decided to chill and watch the tv until Ariadne brought his food and rejoined him. Arthur always complained when she did. Saying she shouldn't have to wait on him like that and that if Eames wanted food he should get his lazy ass up and get it himself. But alas she never learned or listened and so Eames sat there waiting and grinning, "Love, if you could double up on my share of fries tonight that would be fantastic…oh and would you mind fetching me a lemonade instead of that water?" Eames belly laughed at the tv program and turned the volume a little louder to reward the television company.

"Sure!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Why don't you pick yourself up off that couch and get it yourself, Mr. Eames?"

"Because darling Ariadne always gets it for me. It's a bit of a tradition now. Right, Sweet Pea?" Pointedly, Eames looked at the Point Man and raised the level of volume even higher as if it were muting Arthur himself.

Arthur looked at her, obviously peeved and she shrugged her shoulders at him, "I don't mind, Arthur."

"Well maybe once in a while you should be a gentleman and do it for Ariadne." Arthur chided louder and took the pitcher from her hands, pouring her glass and telling her to sit at the counter. That he would get Eames' crap for her.

The tv was at an obnoxious noise level, now. The forger cupped his ear, "What?"

Arthur stamped over to Eames and ripped the remote from his hand, "Maybe, you should be a _gentleman _and do it for Ariadne every once in a while."

"I think you've got that covered, Romeo."

At that point, Ariadne yelled at the across the room, "Do you hear that?"

The boys turned to looked at her. A simultaneous, "What?" and "Huh?" mingling in the air.

Arthur turned the volume down lower and Ariadne repeated, still louder, "Do you hear that?"

Arthur and Eames perked their ears and listened. The Point Man held his thumb firmly on this volume down button and they steadily waited for it to be sound enough to hear what she was talking about. Ariadne's eyes squinted and she walked the kitchen once over cautiously, opening the cabinets…slowly she put her ear against the back window and then pulled the curtain back. There was nothing or no one out there…but the noise was persistent.

The tv finally reached the muted level and the boys strained their ears. They didn't know what they were listening for: a hiss? A voice? A bang? A—

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Slowly Eames stood, he and Arthur exchanged glances and then-_ . .-_Eames was ripping the cushions off the couch and checking the phones for bugs. Arthur looks across the room and sees a red light blinking through the container of coleslaw, rapidly increasing its speed—_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP—_

"Ariadne! Get out of the kitch—"

_***YHIEFJSLD39274oHSdf80w97rfaso**_

It was a blur of so many colors it could've been the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, blue, white. There were bright spots clouding vision and bells ringing in ears, glass shards flying, chunks of wood burning and smoke filling the room. It took a nanosecond for Arthur to gain his bearings. He picked himself up, looked behind him and Eames' face had a gash on his forehead. He was panting and shaking his head (trying to clear the stars from in front of his eyes) and trying to stand. With a sharp pang Arthur remembered who was in the kitchen. "Ariadne!" He pushed himself up and worked through the sea legs and focused his eyes…peered through the smoke for a path to where she used to be. "Ariadne?"

Her coughing was the most comforting sound on the planet right then. She was alive. He pushed his way through the debris, jumped around the slowly kindling fires and found her. She'd been blown back onto the veranda. On closer inspection he was relieved to see only skin deep cuts scattered on her face and neck (thankfully her cardigan had somewhat shielded her arms) from glass shards. She looked like the breath had been knocked out of her and she complained that her back hurt from being thrown back so forcefully but she was alive and she could walk and she could talk. The bomb had been a small one, designed to scare or warn and not to kill. (Thank God.) "Are you okay?"

"Mhm.." she groaned, "My back hurts a little but—"

"Arthur!" Eames stumbled out to where the other two were. "We've got to move. Black vans are pulling up around the hotel. I pulled the fire alarm so hopefully there is enough chaos for us to slip through but—"

"Yeah," Arthur stood and pulled his gun out of his holster. He cocked it and then with his other hand helped Ariadne up, "Throw her sling and the PASIV in your duffel. My laptop is in my backpack, I'll bring that. Leave her backpack and the suitcase."

"What about the brief with our aliases and passports and what not?" Eames cocked his own gun and then made their way back into the hotel room.

Arthur motioned for Ariadne to stay behind him and answered Eames quieter, his eyes roaming and on the hunt, "I've got copies. They'll burn anyway. Take the minimum."

Eames huffed and scuffled to do just that, keeping his own firearm trained and guarding as he moved through the suite and danced around the flames. Arthur watched him go and felt a hand wrap around his forearm, "Arthur…"

"If they were going to ambush the room, they'd have done it by now. They're waiting for us to be chased out and run into their little trap…yet there are a million people trying to evacuate the hotel that we can blend in with, so I don't know how well this plan is going to go over for them." He took the chance to smirk back at her and hopefully relieve her of some of her apprehension. He knew he succeeded when she chuckled, albeit quickly and nervously before she coughed. Arthur turned and placed his gun in her hands, "Go through Eames' suite…his room adjoins with another. It'll be easier to breathe in there…go through that suite and wait for us in the stairwell at the end of the hall."

She nodded and ran in the direction of Eames' door. Arthur, without Ariadne to have to act calm for, then covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, pulled out his extra weapon and went to help Eames. Arthur's room (where all their luggage save for Ariadne's sling was kept) was surrounded in flames, some of the door frame was beginning to crumble in on itself. He saw Eames amidst it all, low to the ground, covering his mouth with his sleeve as well and haphazardly throwing things into the duffel. (Note to self: Arthur, next time, all bags will be located in the main room…Further note to self: pick all food deliveries to pieces from now on.) Arthur sprinted into the room and slung his backpack over his shoulders. He gestured to Eames to forget about the briefcase and helped him up. They made it out of the room just in enough time to see it cave in on itself and take some of the ceiling of the main room with it. The flames were everywhere and they had to resort to crawling on the ground to get any semblance of oxygen as they made their way to the opening. They hadn't hit the ground but three seconds too early before another explosion went off on the other side of the suite. They made it out of the room and sprinted down the hall to the haven of a stairwell. Arthur kicked open the door, panting and sweating, dirty with soot and there was no Ariadne waiting for them. "Shit. I'll check our suite, you check the next!" He yelled at Eames and flew back down the hallway.  
xxxxxx

Ariadne was on the ground. Curled in ball. Her hand was covering her nose and her mouth and she coughed desperately. Each cough was deeper, throatier, filled with smoke. Their empty neighboring suite wasn't left out in the bombing. When she'd ran into the room, she had first checked for the fire escape and found the window painted shut. Of course she cursed and as her suite burned a room over, the flames decided to seep into the room she ran to. They came through the door faster than she could've anticipated and were already claiming the curtains and bedspread and carpet of the room she'd entered through. It was a funny parallel that she had ran out of that bedroom the same exact moment that Arthur and Eames had run through Arthur's. She'd heard those familiar beeps through the bells in her skull and found a blinking light under the bed, winking at her like a monster. The room blew and left her no way to get back to her own. She crawled and dodged the best she could, but the smoke was too fast in expanding for her to beat and this was where she found herself. Feet from the door, blind in the haze of grey, on the ground, curled in a ball, hand covering her nose and mouth and coughs erupting through her chest. She'd resigned herself to the fate of suffocating there and then and had hoped Arthur would at least find out that she'd tried to do what he told her to since he obviously wouldn't realize she hadn't made it in time.

Then she felt hands grab her ankles and pull her a foot or two. She couldn't see through the haze but the carpet was burning her back and she couldn't distinguish whether it was from friction or flame. The Architect felt arms scoop her up and carry her. She didn't know where she was going or who had her but she trusted them to get her out of there. She felt the jostling of her savior's quickly paced strides and the slight jolt of their bodies in harmony with a loud sound of wood breaking and then bumpy movements she could match with running. And then there was no more smoke and she could see the dark metal of the stairwell and Eames' face as he set her down gently. Ariadne hadn't realized she was on all fours gasping for air and coughing until her heaving had ceased and she heard the stairwell door burst open and looked up to find the comforting worried gaze of the Point Man. Oxygen and being alive never felt so good. She sucked in another deep breath amidst their coughing.

"Are you okay to walk, Princess? We need to get out of here while there are still plenty of people to get lost in."

"Yeah." Ariadne's eyes widened with shock at the scratchy quality of her voice and cleared her throat. She allowed herself a few more giant, generous breaths before smiling assuredly at the boys and then starting down the stairs. (She death-gripped the railing for balance because her legs were still shaky. And though both the men could tell, they said nothing and gave her credit for trying to hide it so well.)  
xxxxxx

When they made it to the lobby floor, there was an ocean of people and employees filing in and trying to push their way out. They kept Ariadne between them and tried to fight the current. Their best plan was to sneak out the guest only exit at the end of the first level suites' hallway. It led straight into the back parking lot. Eames went through first and went searching for a vehicle they could steal while Arthur cautiously guided Ariadne through the less crowded but still crowded back hallway. Thankfully everyone flooding it was headed in the opposite direction. She made it out into the dark blue air first. The fresh air was almost overwhelming and her lungs felt like they might cramp up from how wonderful it was. Arthur saw it in slow motion as he exited the building. A man in a dark blue suit and a trench coat appeared from nowhere and grabbed the little-bodied Architect, pushed her chest against his. "Hell, yes. I'm getting a promotion for this! Hello, _Ariadne!_" She struggled him against for no more than a minute before Arthur was behind the man and holding him in a chokehold from behind.

"Let her go."

"Is this Arthur?" The figure chuckled. "Forget a promotion. I'm going to be fucking vice president of the Company for this!"

Arthur's hold on the man tightened, "Let. Her. Go."

"How bout a celebratory kiss, Architect?" The man smushed his nose against hers and Ariadne squirmed, "Get off of me!"

Arthur squeezed the man's neck between his forearm and bicep, "You do that and I'll have to punch your molars through your cheek."

"Fine." The suited offender retorted and then folded Ariadne's arm behind her back. Ariadne gasped and hissed and hit at the man with her free arm before Arthur heard a pop. Ariadne's yell of pain broke the last straw. With a swift rotation of his own arm the man's neck twisted, cracked and he fell to the ground limp. A group of suited men approached and when they saw their comrade on the ground with his neck twisted unnaturally they pulled out their guns…The Point pushed Ariadne behind him and shot at one of the attackers. Grabbing her good arm, he swiveled her to the right and ducked over her, shooting two more men over his shoulder. Two were left running at him when a van pulled up behind them and blocked off an area of the parking lot. "Arthur!" He twisted his head to see men pouring out of the black vehicle. He shoots the two en route to them with ease and then moves Ariadne again. "Run! Find Eames!" She stood frozen, staring at all the men Arthur would try to take on his own. "Go! I'll cover you!"

Obediently, she ran the other direction back towards the front of the hotel. Arthur put his pistol back into his holster and pulled out a Glock 19. From where Ariadne stood it was a jumble of bodies. Arthur would shoot one down and take a punch and then flip one over his back and kick the other. He would get kneed in the stomach but shoot another in the foot. Elbow one and then take a bladed hand to the neck. One would take off to chase her and be gunned down before he took three steps. Ariadne watched in awe as he dexterously evaded and eliminated men.

Big, grimy hands seized her waist and pulled her back behind the dumpsters. Two men, the sizes of Arthur and Cobb had her to themselves. They threw her so that her back collided into the dumpster which resounded in a symbol-like clash of metal. As he did every few seconds, his eyes looked up to see Ariadne and saw she was no longer watching him from her spot by the parking lamp light. He'd hoped she had succeeded in finding Eames—a hope which was shattered when he heard the loud crash. He multitasked: Defending, shooting, boxing and watching the dumpsters waiting for an answer.

"Where are your manners? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to kill a girl?" Her hard head made her handle the situation brazenly. She ridiculed them with the utmost _dis_respect.

The shorter one coyly sneered, "Travis wants you alive, actually…but he _did _give us free reign to rough you up."

She pushed off of the dumpster and bolted forward to escape but alas, she was too little and they were too mean. They stopped her by her shoulders and then tossed her back against the dumpster. Stubbornly, she pulled herself up again while the taller one sauntered to her. He grabbed the neck of her shirt and pulled her to him, "You're prettier than in the pictures, baby."

Ariadne opened her mouth and out shot a ball of spit. It sloppily landed below his eyes and slid down his face but Ariadne didn't take the time to enjoy it, she kneed him in the crotch and went for the gun that fell out of his holster. Just like Arthur taught her: Steady in two hands (_come on Ariadne. Push through the pain, you need that arm…you can do this)_, aim slightly above your desired target point, pull back the hammer and pull the—

"N-n-no…I don't think so," The other man grabbed the barrel and pointed it upward when she shot.  
xxxxxx

Arthur had rid Australia of thirteen suited men when he heard the gunshot. He looked up and saw Ariadne being slung with her hold on one end of a gun and someone else's hold on the other. She lost her grip and tripped backwards, skidding across the concrete. She had landed on her bad arm; she clutched it, rolled on the ground in agony; the man menacingly walked towards her. When her eyes opened they instantaneously met Arthur's. They motivated each other. Her eyes moved him to escape the headlock he was trapped in and turn it around on the other man, knock him into the ground and then shoot him in the stomach. His eyes propelled her to suck it up. Arthur was watching. She had to be tough, strong. Ariadne pushed up on her elbows and swung her leg to undercut the man standing on top of her. Off the ground, she rose and made a beeline for the front of the hotel. Confident, she was handling it well on her own, he turned to attempt to finish off the band of men surrounding him.  
xxxxxx

Her short legs were never fast enough. The man rebounded too quickly and grabbed her ankle. Down she went. Face first into the gravel. She rolled over to her back quickly to kick the man off but the other had joined him and by her ankles, they pulled her back behind the dumpster. Her shirt rode up leaving the flesh vulnerable. The concrete fileted her back, chipped away at her skin as they mercilessly drug her. Ariadne had tried to hold back the guttural yell that the pain had urged but she couldn't. She gave way to a deep, hoarse howl.

xxxxxx

Her voice brought his attention back to the dumpsters. They were pulling her by her ankles roughly. What they planned to do behind that dumpster was nothing sweet—Arthur's instincts spiked. _Ariadne needs me._ _She needs me NOW. _With no more delay he slayed the people keeping him from her with animal like precision and fierceness. His legs carried him to the dumpsters and what he found made his blood boil. She was lying on the ground. One man—the shorter one—held her wrists down on the pavement while she struggled against him. The taller figure had straddled her stomach. Her body writhed and her legs kicked. They pushed against the concrete and stamped, twisted, flailed. But his body held her down and his fists pounded into her. One after the other he threw punches at her small, delicate face. Arthur marched like his own army. His face was twisted into a glower. Brown eyes cold, feral, vicious. In them? Hatred. Hostility. _Venom. _He raised his gun and shot the shorter man's shoulder without the bat of an eyelash. With his next step, he blasted his foot. With the next, his knee. The man yelled and fell back to hold his wounds. This caused the taller one to look up. Determining the man looking at him was Arthur, he looked him in the eye and smiled viciously…then punched her again without dropping his taunting gaze from Arthur's steely one. Arthur ripped the man off of the Architect and bulldozed him into the back of the building. The Point kneed the other man in the stomach four times before tossing him away, letting him topple headfirst into the side of the dumpster.

Now, he could refocus his attention on Ari. Time stopped when she lifted her head up to look at him. Her left eye was black and swollen shut, there were cuts on her lip and her forehead from the enemy's knuckles, there was blood dripping from her nose and staining her once beautiful scarf (the one he watched her carefully and painstakingly select this morning). Whether she was crying or the water was involuntarily oozing out of her eye, Arthur didn't care. He saw _red._ Everywhere, red. Blinding, throbbing, flashing, exploding red. Enmity raged. It ripped through him at the speed of light and when the shorter man dared to move, Arthur had no hesitation in shooting his other foot. When the man cried out, his other knee. He smiled facetiously when he felt the other person strive to jump on is back. He merely grabbed hold of his arms to keep them around his neck and ran backwards, ramming into the wall. The guy's hold released and he slid down but not before Arthur elbowed him in the ribs and was rewarded a satisfactory crack. Ariadne had rolled to her stomach now and with her good arm tried to lift herself up. As Arthur crossed over to the shorter victim again he ordered her to stay down. The poor guy attempted to right himself, horribly failing. He pulled a gun. Arthur kicked it away. He grabbed Arthur's jacket to stand. Arthur pushed him back to sit. "Come on, man…"The short one pleaded. The Point raised his gun and shot him first in the stomach, second on the right side of his chest, and last, between his eyes.

He turned around concurrently as the sound of the taller man's gun clicking. He stood a step away from the wall, pointing the gun at Ariadne. "Drop the gun." Arthur made no move to do so. "Drop it or I shoot her."

"Fine." Arthur shrugged. He opened his palm and let the Glock fall to the ground. Ariadne watched in disbelief as Arthur's eyes darkened—and turned. They morphed heavily and acquired qualities Ariadne had never seen alone—much less in Arthur. They were beastly, heinous. She caught herself leaning away from him, crawling back. This side of Arthur terrified her. Her body tensed when he spoke again, the sound of his new voice scraping against her ears. It was no longer velvety and soothing or the deep, settling rumble. It was harsh. It bit. It shredded and grated and grinded. "You think I need a gun to kill you?" He flexed his hands.

Arthur was too quick for him. Arthur is too quick for everyone. He grabbed the man's wrist and gripped so hard the man's fingers popped and shriveled; he released the gun into Arthur's hand with Arthur threw into the dumpster. The man tried to punch back; an action that was only futile. Arthur grabbed his wrist and flipped him on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The man got up on his knees and tried to stand. (In his poor beaten up state, he had not realized he grabbed onto Ariadne's ankles for support.) Arthur just shoved him back down and kicked him in the side. The man pulled out another gun and Arthur scoffed and kicked it out of his hand before stepping on it. That callous hand that had touched his Architect. "Please." The figure begged but Arthur was past livid. He picked him up by his collar-

Images of her face before and after swam in his head. Her long, wispy eyelashes? Wet with salty tears and drops of blood. Her divine chocolate eyes? Tumescent. Blackened. Blued. Her sublime, alluring lips? Busted, cut. Her button nose? Crusted with crimson. Her petite frame, lithe limbs? Clobbered. Her tiny body looked tinier. She was meant to be cradled not beaten. She was meant to smile and sparkle and grace the world with her sunny disposition. Never was she supposed to be curled up on the ground: Her smile, distorted into a look of pure misery. Her sparkle, dulled by the vermillion. Her sun, pummeled out of her leaving nothing but the dark side of the moon. His thoughts clouded his mind. Ariadne could tell when the man stopped fighting back that he was gone. She could see the way his body slumped even as Arthur held it up. She saw how his head lolled from side to side as Arthur kept going, it was too much to take. She found her voice, though it trembled at first. Afraid to address him, afraid to call his attention to her, "Arthur, stop."

Eames pulled up with two motorcycles he'd found as Ariadne yelled, wide-eyed and astonished, "Arthur he's dead! Stop!" Not until he looked at the body in front of him did he discern his actions. With every sentence to cross his mind, a punch was thrown.

"Dear, what's wrong with your arm?" Eames inquired and examined it. Arthur had finally settled and released his hold on the man's collar. He let him drop like a sack of potatoes. Ariadne was half listening to Eames conclude, "It's just out of socket, I can fix that," because she was watching Arthur wipe his hands on his suit pants like he was wiping off sweat and not other men's spilled blood. Her shoulder shoving back into place came as a shock and with a yelp. "You might be sore for a while." Eames looked around and hopped on his bike.

Arthur then threw his legs over his own motorcycle and held out the helmet for the Architect, "Come on, we need to get going." She looked down at his outstretched hand and couldn't help but feel appalled. She saw the sticky crimson remains that were already beginning to cake and took her time to glance at the heap of men across the parking lot that'd been annihilated, the man with enough bullet holes to resemble a cheese grater and the man with the face so bloody it looked like a smashed strawberry. She looked back at Arthur and couldn't help but cautiously back away from him and climb onto Eames' bike. She didn't even spare him a passing glance when she wrapped her arms around Eames' waist (like her life depended on it. Like Eames would protect her from Arthur) and rested her head on his back to face away from the Point's eye contact. She was scared to meet eyes.

Arthur swallowed and had a silent conversation through looks with Eames. He handed the Forger the helmet and Eames turned around and placed it on her head before they revved up and hightailed it out of there.  
xxxxxx

Countless hours later, they pulled up at a diner somewhere just outside of Melbourne. The Point Man was the first to jump off and unload the duffel while barking out orders. "Once we get into Melbourne we need a flight out of the city. If you're hungry, get something while we're here. There should be clean clothes in the duffel for each of us. Wash up as best you can."

He unzipped the bag and pulled out jeans, an orange Henley and once he glanced at her singed scarf, a fresh scarf from the pocket and held them out for her, "Ariadne, yours are on top." He tried to meet her eyes but she just wouldn't have it. She looked directly at the clothes and he caught the wince she'd made when she saw the blood on his hands brush against her shirt. Ariadne snatched them out of his hands and didn't wait for the boys to retrieve their own clothes before she treaded inside.  
xxxxxx

Eames was already in the Men's bathroom with a new pair of pants on as Arthur walked in with fresh clothes in his hands. The Point Man walked to the counter placed his clothes down and began to furiously scrub his hands. Once he deemed them sterile he rested them on either side of the sink and looked himself over in the mirror. A cut lip, a cut on his cheek, blood splattered over his face, over his suit. "Oh God," He breathed. "I never wanted her to see me like this."

"Like what?" Eames flushed the urinal and zipped his pants as he joined Arthur in front of the mirror. "A killing machine? Because that's what you are, my friend. It was bloody amazing when you just cracked that guys neck like that—" He snapped.

Arthur buried his face in his palms, "Did you see the way she looked at me?" He resurfaced and criticized his appearance again, "She was scared of me. Like she was afraid I'd do the same to her if I got mad enough." He turned the water on and angrily rubbed and scrubbed and scratched his face until it was clean of other people's blood. The sight of his blood splattered suit in the mirror was suddenly nauseating to him. He ripped his jacket and shirt off, dunked them into the trash bin, "She was disgusted."

"Well I don't imagine she's ever seen someone killed in front of her before…much less twenty something...and so brutally." Eames dawdled, his singed shirt half unbuttoned while his attention was examining the scruff on his chin.

Arthur sighed and buttoned his clean suit jacket up and skillfully and speedily knotted a new dark blue tie. He heard Eames chime, "To be fair, Artie old pal, _everyone _is scared of you." The Point Man ignored him, and wet his hair to carefully style it back into a neat, gelled back look.  
xxxxxx

When he left Eames in the bathroom, Ariadne was in the restroom hallway waiting against the wall. He knew Ariadne could see him in her peripheral vision as he approached her and when he was nearly standing on top of her, she began fidgeting and burning a hole in the floor with her eyes. "Ariadne…" he tentatively called and went to bring his hand to her shoulder. His hand didn't make it far before her eyes darted to him she jerked.

He lowered his hand to put her back at ease and licked his lips while he calculated what was best to say. "That's not a side of me I ever wanted you to see. I'm sorry you had to witness what I'm capable of."

She stared at the picture on the wall straight across from her and rambled, "They were all just so big compared to you and you snapped them like a twig…and I'm so…tiny compared to them…to you. You could break me in half without batting an eyelash."

Arthur then crossed over to stand in front of her and although he didn't mean to make her feel cornered, it did. "Listen to me," He waited for her to meet his eyes before he continued, "I would _never _ever hurt you…I'd rather kill and be killed than to see you hurt. You understand?"

She was silent and he could still see that look in her eyes. The one that didn't believe this was the Arthur she'd known. The look that was afraid to say she didn't understand for fear of his anger and what would come with it. So he took her shoulders, squared them and elaborated. "You have to _know _that, Ariadne. You have to know that I wouldn't dream of harming a hair on your head."

"But it was so easy for you to kill—"

He cut her off, "When those men threatened you like that, When I saw—" His voice caught, "When I saw what they did to you…" the side of his index finger skimmed the bruise on her eyes, "I couldn't stop myself from killing them if I tried. No one hurts you and gets away with it, you understand me?"

The tornado of emotions and thoughts in her head left her speechless and confused and shaking her head. She could only see those dead men, Arthur's bloodthirsty, unfazed look and the red liquid on his fists. "eh-I-". Arthur then took a risk and cradled her head with his hand, making her looking up not just to him but into him. He touched her softly at first-like she was made of glass so she'd know those hands wouldn't hurt _her_. They wouldn't touch her the way they'd hit. "You have to believe me. I know what you saw was scary but I'm still me. I'm Arthur, I'm Russell, your friend, your fake 'Sweetheart.' It's still me, Ari. I need you to trust me again."

She stared into his eyes judgmentally and saw the gentle and soft-spoken man he only let loose in her presence. How this could be the same monster than obliterated 23 men just hours ago was unfathomable. She relaxed when that Arthur surfaced. She took a leap of faith, "I do."

And she was looking at him normal again and the relief that surged through him moved him to caress her jawline with his thumb. "All I want is to protect you."

She opened her mouth to protest but he beat her to it, "—When you need it," He smirked. He knew her all too well for it to be healthy. She smiled at that and then teased, "What do you mean '_fake' _Sweetheart?"

He winked and pulled away as Eames stepped out to join them. The Forger looked between the two and blew his cheeks. He was clearly happy to see the issue between them had been resolved. Cheekily, he slid to stand by Ariadne, "We feeling alright, champ?" Lovingly, he swatted her back but—Ariadne instantly arched and shrieked. She hissed and doubled over in pain. He raised his hands and looked at Arthur, "Don't shoot me!"

"What is it? Are you bruised?"

Still bent over, breaths terse, she shook her head and lifted her shirt to reveal her back. Angry ripped flesh peeled in jagged lines from her shoulder blades to her hip bones. Eames caught the clenching of Arthur's fist but he calmed himself well and released the tension. "You need to rub antiseptic and bandage that up."

Ariadne finally stood, still sucking breaths through her teeth while the pain resided, "Can we please just get out of Australia and then play doctor?"

"Can you tolerate it that long," Eames grimaced.

"It's not that bad if I don't put pressure on it…or _slap _it."

"I didn't know!"

"I'm kidding." She grinned as the flare up of pain dwindled down to the level it had been prior to the smack.

Arthur nodded but asked, "Are you hungry? You want to eat something first?" She shook her head and began walking. He grasped her hand and lightly held the back of her elbow, "Does it hurt to walk?"

She quipped, "I walked in here, didn't I?"

"I can carry you if you want."

She laughed at his overprotectiveness shining through, "I got it." And walked ahead of the boys. Eames nudged Arthur, "Slow down there, lover boy. Getting a bit too eager."  
xxxxxx

They flew out of Melbourne on the red eye to the Florida Keys. Got in around 2am. Settled into a little hotel condo somewhere off the coast. First and foremost, they needed to take of her wounds. Eames made a big deal about a shower and so contrived the scenario in which Arthur had to perform first aid. She stood in front of the island in the kitchenette and leaned her elbow on it. Tentatively, Arthur peeled her shirt up to display the cuts. He took his time getting the antiseptic and squirting it into his hands. The situation had proved both thrilling and awkward for the pair. With a swallow, his skin made contact with hers.

It was striking. Ariadne tensed and jutted further forward into the counter. Her breath hitched and her pulse climbed. "I'm sorry. Does it burn?" Thankfully he couldn't see her teeth sink into her lip or the pink color her cheeks. She only moved her head up and down in response. It had burned. But not entirely the way he thought it did. Gradually, they got used to his palms rubbing against her back and by the time he'd bandaged her, they hid the traces of exhilaration well. He stepped away to through the bandage wrappers in the trash and Ariadne let her shirt down. She rested her head against the cool counter and normalized her composure. When her head lifted, his hands held out a glass of water and two pills. "Do you need anything else?"

"My bed." She chortled and gulped down the painkillers.

Arthur reached across the counter to retrieve a bag of ice wrapped in a towel and held it out for her, "Keep this on your eye for a while." She took it and held it to her face in the appropriate spot. "What about your nose; is it bruised?"

She declined, "Not bad."

The Point Man followed her to her bedroom door, "Keep your door cracked. If you need anything, I'll be on the couch all night."

"Ok."

"I'm serious. Anything: Glass of water, more pills, extra blanket, if it hurts to turn over, bad dream. I'm here."

Her lips curved upward sweetly, "I know." She could feel his eyes roam her face, she sensed the pause on her black eye, on her cut lip…saw the gaze drop to her shoulder. He was upset he didn't prevent it. Her smile changed to incorporate forgiveness. Ariadne reached on her tiptoes and placed a tender, gratuitous kiss on his cheek. Arthur's head turned into it, his eyes closed, reveling in her subtle touch, wishing it were his lips she chose to gift with a kiss. His eyes were open and his face was general when she pulled away and locked eyes, "Goodnight Arthur."

He leaned against her doorframe, reigning in the feelings, reeling back the desires. "Goodnight Ariadne."

_She is perfect._  
xxxxxx

_She was thirsty…she wanted a glass of milk. So she rolled out of bed, winced at the pain and trudged to the main room. He said he'd be on the couch all night and yet he was gone. Everyone was gone. "Arthur?" She called._

"_Psst." Green eyes shine through the darkness in the back of the kitchen by the terrace. It was the shade again and she reached out for the Architect. It freaked her out but she had to go to her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew Mal would take her Arthur. So she crept to the green eyes and the closer she got, the more of the woman's face and body was revealed in the darkness. Mal took her hand and led her onto the terrace where Arthur's body lay bloody on a sunbathing chair. Ariadne's hand flew to her mouth; on closer inspection, it wasn't Arthur's full body. From the top of his head to his chest, he had been split apart and cell by cell he was splitting further. He groaned in agony. Mal pointed her finger towards Ariadne's chest and poked her heart with her fingernail. Ariadne twitched and she heard a crack. A splitting headache started and she felt a trickle of blood run down between her eyes. "What's happening?" _

_Mal caresses her face, "You're breaking in half Ariadne."_

_Switch. Their condo was gone. She was in the brush alone. An inhuman pull inside of her—the right half of her to be exact- told her Arthur was looking for her. He needed her. So she called out to him, "Arthur?"_

"_Ariadne!"_

"_Arthur, where are you?" She spun around multiple times, eyes flitting in every direction. _

"_Ari!"_

_The Architect followed his voice through the brush and froze. Train tracks. And Arthur was tied to them. The chugging of the wheels were now audible, the ominous whistle chimed through the air. And she could see it coming through the trees. Ariadne dove at him and pulled at his restraints. The knots were too tight and there was nothing to cut it with. He was going to die. Impractically, she kept pulling at the ropes around him. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, "How did you get here?"_

"_I tied myself here…"_

_She yelled, frustrated, "Why would you do that?"_

"_I'm waiting for a train." He—as much as he could with his restraints—fished for a pocketknife. Our girl saw the glint and pulled it out herself, ready to cut him free. But the Point Man wouldn't let go. He repeated, death gripping the knife, "I'm waiting for a train."_

"_No, Arthur. Please let me cut you loose and let's go."_

_He wrenched it from her grasp and bent it on the tracks. It shattered to pieces with his will. Ariadne deadpanned at him, wrought and bewildered. "I think I know where it'll take me—but I can't know for sure."_

"_Oh God…Arthur please stop."_

"_But it doesn't matter to me."_

_She whispered afraid of what the riddle would unleash this time, "Why doesn't it matter?"_

_Arthur smiled. Squinty eyes, dimples and all, "Because you're here. You came so we could be together."_

_Ariadne started breathing harder while he gazed at her, adoration in his dark pupils. He reasoned, "And that means you love me." Ariadne stumbled backwards away from him with her eyes wide. She started shaking her head rapidly, tears overflowed, she backed away further and further from the tracks, from him. Love. She couldn't love him. Could she? The train was approaching steadily, the whistles and wheels deafening. Arthur's voice called out to her, "You do, don't you? You love me. You have to, you have to love me. I'm here for you. I'm tied to this track for you. You have to love me."_

_Ariadne covered her ears with her hands and tried to drown out everything. Still, he called, "Ari, please. I know you do, I know you love me. Come back and answer me!" _

_There it was. The train was feet from the Point Man. He was going to die. He was going to be run over by the train. Body mutilated, blood everywhere, bones crushed, organs burst. He was going to die a painful, gory death and Ariadne had to watch. The same feeling she felt in her other nightmare surfaced. When she was faced with Arthur's slit throat. Of the prospect of a world without him. Where it hurt so much yet nothing was touching her. Where if he died, she wanted to be dead. It grew out of her body to a point of anguish. And without thinking, she let those feelings take over her body and move her. What had they led her to do? She sprinted the space she put between them, threw herself on the track beside him, wrapped her arm around his waist and hid her head in the crook of his neck. "I do; I love you." She didn't have to wait long until the train crushed them and-  
xxxxxx_

She woke with a cold sweat. Her dream revelation was overwhelming. Did she love him? She cared about him a great deal…she really liked him. She trusted him. She—needed?—him. Was she really breaking in half? Becoming half of whole? Were her feelings for him that intense? _Was Ariadne, in reality, falling in love with the Point Man?_ -Her eyes darted to the crack of her door. She saw the blinking lights of the television, heard the clicking of his laptop keys and _his voice_. Silky, something she could wrap herself in. He was talking with Eames, murmuring low so he wouldn't wake her. The low familiar hum of his tone vibrating against his core. It made her feel safe, it shot her pulse through the roof, it calmed her and lulled her like no other voice could-

_Yes, she was. _

Xxxxxx

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	17. You Can't Be Him

WOWOWOW! Lots of stuff since I updated last! Thanks guys. I currently love: _Miss Ariadne, The Angry Lioness, Legal-Assassin-006, PrincessLove123, feelthefreedom, origamifoxes, cinematherapy, Dryad Warrior Queen, Elfrieda, Fire. Bread. and Dandelions, Beware the Bandersnatch, lady555, .85, Lani, miki-tsu, I love you Roza, snapdragon17, gengen99, imabookworm815, SaveABroomRideAWizard, Hyuuga Ayame, Leftfordead1, Glee-SOA-NCISLA lover. _

**Chapter 17—You Can't Be Him.**

**The Next Night:**

_Ariadne groaned as she opened her eyes. Everything was white and sterile and she squinted as her eyes adjusted. She briefly heard the sounds of a teenage drama shrilling from a tv above her head. All at once a dull, aching soreness hit her lower half like a ton of bricks. She heard her sister's voice before she turned to find another bed sharing the privet room._

"_You've been out for a long time…I thought I was the one with all the complications." She joked._

"_What happened? They didn't put me to sleep…"_

_Hera grimaced, "Ganny said you passed out from the pain, so they gave you anesthesia to keep you asleep and finished the procedure."_

_Ariadne blinked back the sluggish feeling and nodded in response._

"_Addy, why are you doing this?"_

_The addressed turned her attention from the tv screen, eyebrows crinkled, "What do you mean?"_

"_Donating all this blood and marrow…I've been so mean to you. Always teasing you and tattling and being such a horrible big sister. I've made your life a living hell. Why would you even want to help me?"_

_Ariadne sighed and shook her head, "Because you're my sister and I love you. And when you love someone there's two things you're bound to end up doing: Teasing the shit out of them and sacrificing part of yourself for them."_

_Her sister smiled but her sentence was sad, "Well, mom was sure you wouldn't he—" _

"_I'm not mom, I don't hold grudges." Ariadne folded her arms over her chest._

"_No, you're like dad. You love fiercely and unconditionally."  
xxxxxx_

Arthur was sitting on the couch. He was so close to pinning down whoever was following Ariadne. He'd tracked some of the credit cards used to purchase tickets to Brazil and found that a few of the same ones were used to visit Paris. Both at the time of the shooting and in sporadic visits the months leading up to it. He'd narrowed it to three men who'd been on her tail since before the shootings: Bradley Garrett, Jude Traynor and Lewis Morelli. He was in the process of background searches on the three and was coming up dry. The names were probably aliases…so he used an anagram software to brainstorm other names.

He heard the creak of Ari's door and looked up to find her staring intently at him, hesitantly swaying in her doorway. "Hey. Do you need something?"

Ariadne's eyebrows furrowed and she took a step closer. She scrutinized him with her eyes, "Yeah…I remember."

"Remember what?" Arthur set his laptop on the couch and cautiously walked towards her.

She stared at his tie as he stood in front of her. Confused and sensing her tension, Arthur went to brush a strand of hair behind her ear when her head sharply turned to the right. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Arthur followed her gaze behind him and no one was there. She started shaking her head. "Ari?" Concerned Arthur maneuvered and bent down to look in her eyes. They were glazed over and unseeing. She turned over her shoulder and answered the phantom behind her, "What?"

She dropped to her knees on the floor, clutching her heart, gasping, screaming. Arthur dropped down beside her, "Ariadne? Ariadne." He was trying to catch her attention, he couldn't decipher whether she was sleepwalking or having a heart attack. She was now thrashing and yelling for someone to "Stop! Please, leave it!"

The Point Man was afraid she'd hurt herself so he pulled her back into his lap and held her arms down across her chest. "Ow! Please!" She was ramming her back into his chest begging for release. Eames then burst out of his room with his gun. "What's going on?"

"She's sleepwalking. I got this." He struggled against her. "Ari, wake up," He grunted.

With one final thrust, she both knocked the wind out of him and knocked herself into consciousness. She felt for her totem in her pocket and then turned to see her captor. Arthur. She breathed a sigh of relief. "It's ok. You're awake now." Once she seemed to be in her right mind, Eames returned to his room to let Arthur do the comforting for once. Arthur expected her to get up off the ground and return to her room with a short thank you but she slowly turned her head back forward and leaned back into him. He could feel her breathing begin to hiccup, could tell the horrible emotions of the dream were staying with her. She pulled his arms back to the position they had been before, protectively around her shoulders. Arthur couldn't bring himself to resist her. He shouldn't have his arms around her like that, she shouldn't be comfortable in his lap like that and yet it felt like she was supposed to be there. Had always been destined to be there, against him, needing him. "What happened in there?" He prodded gently.

"When you did my background check before Inception…you found all my medicals records right? All the times I donated to my sister?"

He hummed in response. "I was in one of those memories. I was watching the first time I woke after a marrow donation. Then someone pulled me from the memory and pushed me up against the wall and demanded that I donate more. That I wasn't doing enough, I wasn't giving enough up for her. That she needed my heart."

Arthur felt her grip on his forearms hug them tighter to her, "Then Mal came. And that man held me on the floor while she dug her nails into me and ripped my heart out."

Silence filled the space between them as he processed the information and related it to her behavior in the living room. He decided on soothing her by coaxing, "Pain is in the mind." He murmured, "But it wasn't real. And you're awake—"

"And you're here." He sucked in a breath as she tilted her head to rest it back on his shoulder. Her head closer to his, her temple against his cheek.

"I-I'm here," He fought to agree and voice something coherent, "So no one can get to you."

Ariadne didn't tell him that after she'd been pulled from the scene of her memory and after the man chastised her about holding back and not giving enough…the man forced her to look back into the hospital room and see Arthur tied to the hospital bed instead of her sister. She didn't tell him that the man said it was Arthur who needed her heart. She didn't tell Arthur that as Mal ripped her heart out she recited her torturous phrases about being a lover. And since she wouldn't tell him those things she would never tell him that had they let her be…she might've ripped it out for him on her own. As she was mulling over the lies she just told him his voice brought her back.

"Maybe we should get the PASIV and take a look at your subconscious. Make sure everything's—"

"No." She lifted her head off of his shoulder.

He sighed, "They're getting worse, Ariadne…"

"I don't want you in there. Not while I'm having these dreams." She couldn't let him see the hostile nature her mind had evolved into. Mal and her talk of passion and death, the faceless suits that chased her, the blood, the guilt, the creatures that creeped in the cracks…Until she felt back to normal psychologically, she wouldn't allow him to travel into that.

"Well maybe we could find a way to make them stop—"

Her voice was adamant and biting, "I know the way to make them stop and you wouldn't have it."

"Well what is it?"

"_I can't tell you._"

Arthur huffed, "Why won't you let me help you? I'm sure I can handle whatever's down there. You'd be amazed how many hostile projections I've encountered. And I mean _severely _hostile."

The front of his body went cold and longing when she broke their body on body contact and turned around to face him, "My dreams aren't what you think they are. It's not like watching some random gory horror movie. Partly, yes, but they're psychologically and emotionally terrifying. They're creating a pattern. They all mean one thing."

"Tell me."

Ariadne's head shook, "I don't want you to know. You wouldn't understand." She maneuvered back around to face front and leaned into him again. Arthur's hot breath caressed her ear, "How can I even begin to when you won't give me the chance?"

One deep inhale and exhale. "Something's happening to me. I'm changing."

"How so?"

"I'm starting to learn what it feels like to be—something I've never been before." Or in Mal's taunts, _A Lover._ The Point Man was all too present, all too pressed against her back to ignore the sensations that came with it. She lost the battle and rotated her head ever so slightly to feel his cheek on her temple again, to breathe in his cologne like it was the stuff oxygen was made out of. Her eyes drifted closed as her next words tortured, "Someone else has taken over a part of me…and that part is beginning to define me. What I say, what I do, what I need, what I want."

"Like a split personality?" She felt his body reverberate through his chest as he spoke as if an earthquake had ruptured.

"Not at all…" Her voice sounded dazed, "I know it's wrong." Her eyes fluttered open, "And I know you'd resent me if you found out what I'm starting to become. What I can't help but feel." Her head moved away from his. The proximity but lack of touch felt like pins and needles. Since Ariadne couldn't take it anymore, she left his body cold and stood up, "That's why I can't let you in." The Architect retrieved a glass of water on her own; After drinking it, she allowed Arthur to talk her into trying to go back to sleep and let him walk her to her room.

There was a comfortable stillness in the room for a period while he stood at the doorway and watched her get comfy. The only sound was Ariadne's movement and the rustling of sheets. "Ari…that time in the park. When I—do you remember that?" She hummed in a response he gathered as positive. "We've never talked about it."

"Nu uh." She breathed.

"I don't regret it," He bravely pressed.

It was almost inaudible but he'd made it out, "Neither do I."

He continued with hesitation, "Then-why did you leave?" She wouldn't answer him back. He sat and waited for reply, thinking she was building the courage or deciding an appropriate way to tell him it felt unnatural or uncomfortable to her. That she didn't think of him like that, that it was for show. He turned peered in closer and found her lost in sleep. Arthur left the room and gently closed her door.

Xxxxxx

What was going on with him? To confess something so personal and dangerous as what he'd just confessed… What kind of madness would ensue? What feelings would be unleashed if she woke up and wanted to have a deeper conversation about it? The past few days had been too much. Being around her was softening his guard; his stone walls were turning to sand. He was revealing too much to her, becoming too vulnerable. He needed to take a step back. He needed to get away and let his mind mull over anything and everything that had nothing to do with her. And yet…the thought of doing just that made his throat squeeze and threatened to stop his breath. He couldn't fathom leaving her for a minute and not because of fear…but because he was in that place. He was in her atmosphere and she was pulling him down. He burned, he broke apart, he sparked, all the while blasting through the air on a rapid descent. It was petrifying.

_And magnificent._

He wished she would digress why her dreams were so brutal. What really happened in them? What kind of pattern was she talking about? Someone taking over her…Mal? What if—and she'd never have to know…-what if he took a trip into her dream? Just one. Just for a peek. Just to understand, just to be able to help and soothe like the Forger did. He grabbed the PASIV out of his room, made sure she was really asleep and slipped the IV into her arm where the tracker had been. She wouldn't pay any mind to a puncture there. With his back against her bed, he pressed the button and melted away into her mind.  
xxxxxx

_It was their suite. The one they were staying in this second up above. Arthur was standing in his empty bedroom listening to the shower running in his bathroom. There was faint shouting he could hear through his closed door which became clearer as the water stopped. A gunshot would be too loud and cause attention, so Arthur unsheathed his pocket knife and plastered himself against the wall. The figure that emerged from the bathroom was himself. Pressed brown suit, gelled locks. His doppelganger had stridden past him and was headed for the door. Before he could turn the knob, the real Arthur clamped his hand over the clone's mouth and stabbed him; he pulled his dead shade into the bathroom and left him in the bathtub. Cleverly, he would emerge and pretend to be her projection of him. He would at last understand his role in her nightmares…he would finally hear the riddles Mal plagued her with. _

_He opened his bedroom door to set his sights upon Ariadne, hands bound and held above her head with a rope that attached to the ceiling. She was dripping wet with blood. And who other than Mal—she used to be so lovely—was holding the weapon. "'I know what it's like to be a lover! Say it!'" The shade demanded._

"_I told you; I don't!" Ariadne screamed as Mal plunged the knife into one of the spots she'd missed. The Architect was frustrated now, that this woman wouldn't get the point. "To know what it is to be lover means the person you love has to love you back…and he doesn't."_

_Suddenly, the familiar green eyes were upon him. Like a huntress. "Well look who's here to settle the issue." Ariadne's eyes followed Mal's and her whole body deflated when she saw him. She openly braced herself for what was about to come. In Arthur's mind, so many questions had been answered. When Mal looked at him, she confirmed that the he Ariadne had been speaking about…was him. Was Arthur. The taller of the two women stared at him expectantly. This was just a dream—he felt his die—only a dream. Maybe this was how he could put her mind to rest. He answered Mal, "Ariadne's right. She doesn't know what it's like." He looked at the Architect. She was staring ahead, biting the inside of her cheek, waiting for this nightmare to be over. "And neither do I. But it's not because I don't adore everything that she is…but because I won't let myself." The Point Man strolled to Ariadne, pushing pass the shade and paying no mind to her as he pulled the knife from her hand to cut Ariadne's arms down. He didn't wait for her to look up at him once her arms fell. This was a dream and he'd never get the chance to do this in reality so he grabbed the opportunity by the reins. Arthur let his forehead rest on hers tenderly and whispered into the space between her nose and her lips, "Maybe we could learn together." It was so easy to feel her eyebrows furrow, to feel the air rush out of her, to let her start rubbing their foreheads together softly, to join in and nuzzle back. "I hate myself," she said under her breath._

"_Why?" Arthur's sharp tone reduced to a puff of air._

"_Because I love you."_

_His heart stopped. There was this tingling feeling in his stomach, in his chest. And there was just so much air, so much sensation that needed to be let out. It literally ached. Like everything in his body needed to be turned inside out so he could burst freely into the universe and let his soul soar like it pined to do in this moment. Arthur was completely lost in this sudden wave of emotion. He wasn't supposed to feel emotion—and yet-here it was growing inside of him, blowing him up like a hot air balloon and soon his feet would leave the ground and he'd float. He couldn't contain it. He couldn't withhold it. He was dying to murmur it back. He wanted to fill her with hot air too so he wouldn't have to float off into the clouds alone. "I love you, Ari…"_

_Then his heart stopped again. But this time only to reverse. The tingling feeling sharpened. The once overabundance of air was snuffed out, the sensation deadened. It still ached but differently. Not the wonderful ache it had been. Not only had the hot air balloon popped but a boulder was dropped inside of it and it was crashing rapidly…because she'd stepped away. Because there were tears in her eyes and she was shaking her head 'no' frantically. "No. You don't love me…You can't."_

_He wanted the good feelings back. He wanted to suffocate in her scent; it was imperative to feel her against him. Any part of her. Any part of him. As long as they were touching…he stepped forward to push their heads together again, to regain the intimacy. "Yes. I do, I can."_

_She pushed him off, "Because you're a projection! You say what my subconscious wants to hear." Should he reveal himself? Should he pull her close and confess to invading her mind? To make her understand, make her believe that he did. He had grown to love her with every molecule of DNA he had. No. He shouldn't. He'd taken too long to decide anyway, she had continued to speak, "You're not him." Her tone saddened. "In reality, he would never whisper to me like that. So sweet…" Yes he would. He wanted to. "In reality, he doesn't look at me like this…" She searched his eyes, fascinated at the look of it. The look of his eyes revering her, cherishing her. Her fingers brushed across his eyelids and he was close to being blinded by the stars her contact created. "When I'm awake, I'm the only one that feels this."_

_The top of her head cracked, a drop of blood rolled between her eyes. Arthur watched in horror as she tripped backwards and collided on the ground. As her body started to split in half. "Isn't it beautiful?" A French dipped accent murmurs into his ear. The slender hand of the shade tugs his body around to face a mirror…He is no longer whole. Half of his body is turning into Ariadne. The Point's eyes darted quickly to Ariadne, she was still being ripped apart. She would wake up soon and it wouldn't do for her to wake up hooked to Arthur and the PASIV. He swiped Mal aside, pulled his gun and woke himself up.  
xxxxxx_

Like lightning he pulled the lead out of her and sprinted from her room swinging the PASIV by the handle. Her door had swung to its previously cracked state and Arthur pressed his back against the wall just in time to hear her gasp and the squeak of the bed as she darted awake. Arthur breathed heavily; he hadn't yet pulled the lead from his own arm and the PASIV was still open, dangling from the top. Once he heard, muffled sniffles…he had to get away. He couldn't listen to her cry and not swoop in to make everything better. No, Arthur hid in his room. He locked his door, pulled the lead out, coiled it up and closed the PASIV. He was careful to place it safely under his bed. With the preliminaries taken care of, he had time to mull the dream over. In the middle of the room, he stopped his pacing and smiled huge, dimples denting inward and the whole nine yards. Arthur happily told himself, "She feels the same way." The minute of bliss was interrupted by new thoughts, however. "What am I going to do?" The Point sat on his bed and put his head in his hands…"Oh God…what am I going to do?"

Back and forth. Back and forth. His palms rubbed his eyes looking for a solution. What was he thinking? This changed nothing. Just because she felt the same didn't mean he could act on it; it only meant his job would be harder. Especially, if she knew how _he _felt…in reality…she wouldn't allow him to try and protect her. She would seduce him and make him give in. "She doesn't know, though…You can still prevent this." He encouraged himself.

_So close. Vanilla and strawberries. Her small forehead leaning against his. Her tiny, soft body wrapped in his tall, muscled one. Her bright eyes smiling up at him, her laugh that got him giddy. Her murmured 'I love you.' Did he really want to prevent that?_

Angry at his weak, wondering mind he pinched the bridge of his nose with ferocity, "You have to, Arthur." He chastised and stomped to the window in his bedroom. He stared out at the ocean, begged it to relieve him of these thoughts, these feelings. It could be so simple. He could have her if he wanted. He could have everything he wanted to share with her because _she felt the same way._

_Permanent worry lines. Agonizing yells. A spinning top. Obsession. Self-decay. A broken, drunken mess haunted by his dead wife. Arthur remembered waking up in a shared hotel room one night on a job. In Dubai. A year and eight months since Mal died. He remembered hearing Cobb grunt and cry in the room over, "Why did you have to leave me? God, I miss you, Mal."_

"You can't be him." Arthur demanded of himself. He couldn't be selfish like that. He couldn't put his desires ahead of her sanity, her life.

_Gray skies. Pouring rain. Hundreds of people gathered around. Black umbrellas. Suits, black dresses, pearls, gloves, tears. A mahogany casket that lowered to the ground. The depressing drone of a preacher's lackluster encouragement. Condolences. Sympathies. White lilies placed one after the other as people left. One headstone. 'In Loving Memory, Mallory Cobb.'_

"You will not let that happen to her. Not to Ariadne." He turned and slid down the window sill to the ground, "If you love her, you'll act as if nothing has changed."

_Her lips. "Sweetheart," she teased._

His head hit the wall with a resounding clunk.

Xxxxxx

**The Day That Followed:**

"Arthur, Ari, our food is here!" Eames called as he shut the door. With a huff at the silence, he went to Arthur's door and pounded loudly, "Get your face out of the damn computer for a few seconds, J. Edgar."

Un-amused, Arthur surfaced and took to retrieving plates for the three to use as Eames knocked on the Architect's door. In complete contrast to Arthur's greeting, he called, "Tiny, we've got some yummies out here for lunch."

Eames tossed the take away bags on the counter and set out the different containers. One of them was a giant container of Shrimp Mac and Cheese which Ariadne just _had _to have. By the smell of it, the boys would have to have it too. There was some barbeque chicken, some shrimp creole and a large salad to split. Arthur got out glasses for them all and set them out as well. He filled his with water and filled Ariadne's with her preferred mixture of Iced Tea and Lemonade. After everything was set, Eames decided to knock on her door again, assured that she must be asleep or showering if the delicious aromas hadn't wafted in and pulled her out of her room yet. "Ariadne, the food is here."

Back to the dining area, Eames filled his short glass with whiskey which received, "At noon, Mr. Eames?" from Arthur in a most disgusted manner. The Forger just shrugged and opened the container of Creole as Arthur opened the barbeque chicken (after setting Ari's macaroni aside so she could have first taste). Arthur carefully took a fork and sunk it into the tender meat, transferring it to his plate. "Eames!" The latter had dipped two of his fingers into the Shrimp Creole to taste it and was obnoxiously sucking on them. He rolled his eyes at Arthur's disgust, "You are too much of a germaphobe for anyone's own good."

"In regards to you," He chided, repulsed, "I don't know where those fingers have been."

Eames winked. Shoveled a tractor-full of Creole onto his plate and returned to The Architect's door. "It's getting cold, Princess, and I for one am not going to wait on you."

"We have a microwave, we'll wait as long as she needs." Arthur glared at Eames.

Knowing the muddy little stick was serious, Eames knew he'd have to get Ariadne out of that room and at the table before his stomach ate itself. He rapped harder, "Ari, I'm starving." He twisted to sneer at Arthur, "Did you upset her again last night?"

Arthur put his glass down and shook his head, "No." When Eames didn't believe him he repeated himself, "No, I didn't." Not intentionally. Not personally, that she knows of.

With a heavy sigh, now frustrated, Eames knocked again. Impatiently, he cracked her door open and peeked his head in. The lights were on, her bed sheets were rumpled and the tv was blinking silently. He pursed his lips and dared go further. He knocked on her bathroom door. No 'What?'s or 'Just a second's were called to him. He winced, turned his head away and slowly opened the door after he felt it was unlocked. He didn't hear water running, he didn't hear an embarrassed shriek… so he looked in. Pristine. A few towels on the floor, her scarves scattered on the vanity but no petite Parisian. Initially relief rushed through him when he didn't see her in a friendship compromising situation…but the question ran through his head…If she's not in her room, where in this suite is she? Then the incredible sense of duty to keep Arthur from flying off the deep end kicked in. He swallowed and casually walked out of her room, headed to his own. Looked around.

"Is she coming?" Arthur asked simply. Eames thought about a morbid response but opted to keep silent and try to inconspicuously check Arthur's bedroom. Arthur watched as Eames quietly and…uneasily…went into room after room. He noticed the set of Eames' jaw, the way he didn't look him in the eye as he searched the suite for—Eames entered the dining area and met Arthur's critical eye. The Point Man knew in an instant. Eames couldn't find the girl. He stood and pulled out his gun, he took long strides to her room and paced around inside of it, tearing back curtains, opening the closets, sure that Ariadne was playing a sick game of hide and seek and Eames just missed her hiding spot. He plowed through Eames' suite in the same manner and though he knew deep down that she couldn't have possibly hidden in his room while he was in there without him knowing, he tore his room apart, calling for her. He pulled out his phone and dialed the security office in the hotel. He'd paid them to keep watch of things for him. The phone rang and Eames followed Arthur out into the hallway, followed Arthur up and down the corridors as Arthur searched the blank walls and hoped she was camouflaged into them.

"Hello, this is Mr. Morgan. My partner is sending a picture of the woman I checked in with," He snapped his fingers at Eames and The Forger whipped out his cell and twiddled his thumbs across the keys to comply. "I need you to contact all security guards, doorman, bellboys and the like. I want whoever has seen her to report to me ASAP. This is an emergency." He hung up and raggedly called her name through the empty hall. Livid that she wouldn't reply he shoved his thumb into the elevator button and clicked the gun against his leg impatiently.

Eames cut through his thoughts, "Think she's on the roof again?"

"I hope so." Arthur's steely voice gritted and then he added, "And if she is, I'm going to kill her." Of course he hadn't meant it literally. When they arrived at the top floor and climbed the stairs to the roof, they found it empty. Eames sucked in a breath and cussed as he chanced a look at Arthur. The Point Man looked confused, he was scanning the rooftop, eyes blinking. "No she's up here…" He began walking the perimeter of the building, practically peeling back metal and stucco with his gaze.

Nothing. No one. Nowhere.

Arthur was fixing to round the area again when his phone rang. "Yes?" He began making his way back to their suite.

"Mr. Morgan, no one has seen this girl. I have one security guard who caught a brunette female of about the same height with a tall blonde male on the security tape. They were exchanging some PDA in the lobby just twenty minutes ago before departing out the side entrance. We couldn't get a visual of her face so we aren't positive but we're trying to cut the footage together and will have it sent to your room, stat."

Arthur huffed, hung up and went back inside their room. "She had to have left _some _clue." He went back into her room, yelling at her like she was still hiding. "Ariadne!"

Eames saw him return to the coffee table and roll his die. Arthur must've had nightmares about her going missing. He must wish this was one of those nightmares…When the desired number appeared, Arthur grunted and picked it up to roll it again. At the same time, they heard the sliding of glass and saw the movement of blinds behind the kitchenette. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Thank God!" Eames exclaimed.

Ariadne stepped inside and gave Eames a wary look before turning her gaze to Arthur. Her eyes followed his red die as it fell to the carpet. Suddenly he was power walking to her. "I just needed some air and—"She ran her words together frantically. Arthur's determined path towards her gave her a pang of fright; he was mad. He was going to yell and cuss and grab her shoulders and demand she never see outside again, "the veranda doesn't overlook anything but the pool so no one can really see me and technically I didn't even leave the suite and—"

Arthur's arms enveloped her into a warm embrace. He held her head under his chin, one hand around her back and one on the back of her head. Her arms were awkwardly tucked in between their bodies but the smell of his clean linen shirt and the feel of his crisp jacket lapel made it the most comfortable position in the world. His eyes were downcast; he looked at the floor and nothing but as he held her closer. She looked to Eames for an answer but he seemed too confused with Arthur's display of emotion to realize she was looking for explanation. After a moment, she pushed against Arthur's chest to look at him, "Are you ok? What's going on? Did something happen?"

He eyes stared at the wall behind her, "I couldn't find you."

When Ariadne had heard the commotion inside of their room, Arthur yelling her name, doors slamming…she figured the worst. That her pursuers had come and were in their room, that they'd found her and her boys. When she dared go back inside, Arthur and Eames were gone. She decided to chill out on the veranda again to give ample time for whoever was there to come back, search and be misled to think she wasn't in Florida or at least in that hotel. She closed the blinds to hide the sliding doors and hid back on the veranda. When she'd heard Arthur call her name again, she'd come back inside expecting to find a hole somewhere on his body and a plane ticket for her to get out of the country with. Instead, she'd come back inside to find an unstable uncharacteristic Arthur. She tried to make light of the misunderstanding, "That's it?"

His eyes dropped to hers. Connecting. Channeling. He was there again: The place she took him at the reception, the place she took him walking the docks of Sydney, the place she took him when they stood close, when she brushed her hand across his suit, when she batted her eyelashes, and smiled and laughed and said his name. He was there in the labyrinth of Ariadne's eyes, the place she'd so unknowingly dragged him into in the hotel lobby of Fischer's dreams, the place where it took all his self-control not to trick her into a quick kiss. Ariadne's atmosphere. His resolve from the night before was crumbling.

This time he wasn't a meteor who had unluckily strayed into her orbit…he was a supernova and she was the catalyst and one look into her eyes had made him explode. It burst through his outer shell and made him putty. He was putty in her hands and she hadn't realized it. She was the only one who could bring out his emotions and now that she'd made him feel them for more than a moment, he was becoming a puddle of them. Melting in them. The frustration, the fear, the horror of not being able to find her. Not ever being able to find her. The thought that it was possible for something to keep him from her, from being with her, from seeing her face at the breakfast table every morning. That in a matter of seconds, she could be taken away from him. That one day he could wake up and be back where he started when this all began. No calls, no information, no trails…just Ariadne. And he'd have to find her, he'd have to search for her like one special grain of sand hidden in the ocean. And he would. He would never stop looking, he would never stop searching for her. And it was an overwhelming thought to think he could spend infinity looking for her and never find her or find her dead or broken or changed beyond repair. And if she was he would fix her. He would rip out his heart and give it to her. He would do anything for her, anything if he could only find her because…well, how can you live without your other half?

Shit Arthur. That's a lot to realize in a fraction of a second.

Radiating his worry, he finally spoke, "I couldn't find you. I thought they took you. That you were gone for good and I didn't think I could go through that again: ripping the world in half, racing against time, trying to _find _you an—"

The edge in his voice triggered her instinct to comfort him. Ariadne tried to slow his thoughts down, "Hey, hey," She put her hand on his cheek to show him that the scene his mind had conjured up wasn't real. She was. "I didn't go anywhere. I'm right here."

Tentatively, (and she saw the flicker in his eyes before he did so) he moved one of his hands to hold the one cupping his cheek. She felt his long calloused fingers take hold of hers, felt his thumb press against her pinky. It was a moment during which they both separately realized that he was treating her touch like a totem. That he used her presence to ground him to reality. The gravitational pull between them is what confirmed it; he could never make her that perfect in his mind. Could never replicate those eyelashes she looks at him through. He couldn't even try to recreate the sparks that flew in her close proximity. Yes, that wasn't a nightmare. She was real. She was safe. She was standing in front of him, touching him and—putty, he was putty.

Then Eames cleared his throat.

She guessed that his eyes went back to that dull, cold, setting when he realized the Forger was watching them like a bad daytime soap opera. That his arms were crossed and there was a smirk on his face that said he'd won a million dollar bet. He barely locked eyes with Eames before his hand pulled hers off his cheek… like that's what he'd meant to bring it there for. He cleared his throat, "I should call security." He walked away and suggested without looking at anyone, "Lunch needs to be reheated."  
xxxxxx

Lunch was reheated, plates were filled and the three sat in the living area. Arthur on the couch, with his laptop and paperwork spread out by him, Ariadne sitting at the foot of it, plate on the coffee table and Eames in the comfy chair. "Aw…Eames would you carry me that far if I had a snakebite?" She said, referring to the movie. Then she dipped more shrimp into her cocktail sauce and took a bite.

He swallowed and wiped his mouth, "You bet I would, Darling. Even if I had that unattractive limp…"

Ariadne snickered, "You'd make it attractive."

Eames had found True Grit on tv and after persuasion on his and Ariadne's part had talked Arthur into watching it as they ate. Arthur still couldn't shake the feeling from earlier of almost losing her again. As her and Eames joked and delighted themselves with their take out and likened themselves to Cogburn and Mattie, (Which was pretty accurate. Eames was a drunken fool with few manners and an odd sense of humor and Ariadne was a short, little stubborn girl bent on having adventure with or without permission) Arthur picked at his food and read over folders of research solemnly. Their relating Cogburn and Mattie's every action and phrase to themselves had no effect on the Point Man. Only when her laughter bubbled, and the few times she looked back at him to see if he was enjoying it as well was there any consolation to the madness in his head.

She frowned as the credits rolled, "That's depressing. I never saw you again."

He picked up his plate and took her clean one from her to put in the sink, "It's a terrible ending. Your horse gets shot and you live a lonely life because you become a single armed ugly wench and I die."

She added, "Because no one could love a one eyed bitter face."

"That's touching. Really, it should be my pet name."

She laughed and turned to face Arthur. She was certain he was still obsessing over facts he'd never find but curious still. "Ariadne, my research is getting nowhere...I have nothing to go on but a few aliases and even then the only things they're attached to are those company cards and the company used for those doesn't exist. I need your help. It's apparent you know something you're not telling me."

Silence. She bit her lip and looked around awkwardly.

"Would you tell Eames? Or Cobb, if I called him would you feel comfortable telling him?"

She winced, "I wouldn't be comfortable telling anyone I care about. They'll find out somehow and it won't be pretty."

He rubbed his face with his hands, "Ari, nothing will happen. Eames and I wouldn't let it. I wish you would trust that…Besides, no vengeful Company could possibly be worse than—"

"Cobol?"

"How do you know about them…?" His nostrils flared, "Did Cobb tell you? We agreed you shouldn't—"

Ariadne interrupted his rant, "No he didn't tell me. They're the ones with the price on my head."

"What? Why…?"

"Don't ask _me_." Her eyes widened, "I came home one day and four men with Cobol badges were in my flat."

"You've known _they_ were after you this whole time?"

Ariadne hesitated, then nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He set the laptop aside and looked intently at her, arms folded across his chest.

"You already had us on lockdown as it were."

"I would've have done everything differently. We've been blending in…we should've been completely off the map. We've been staying in areas for weeks, with Cobol on our tails we should only settle somewhere for hours. We were in freaking Australia! They have a branch office there and I took you out in the city! They're probably on their way here if they're not here already…" He stood, "Pack."

She sighed and turned the tv off, "Arthur, I'm tired of running."

"Don't say that." He demanded as she stood to be as level as she could with him.

"I am. I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder and being scared all the time. I'm tired of seeing you and Eames having to suffer through this with me."

"We don't have to, we want to." The Point Man looked around for Eames. He seemed to be absent from the room but Arthur lowered his voice anyway, "I need you to hang in there. Just run with me a little longer. I can get you out of this." Arthur gently returned a strand of her hair back behind her ear, "Do you trust me?" His whisper brushed her face. Ariadne was going to nod in reply but realized she wanted to tickle his face with her breath too, "Of course."

Now, was not the time to be pulled back in. He dropped his hand and stood straighter, took a step back. "We'll leave in twenty minutes at the most." He turned his back to her and went to find Eames and alert him of their uprooting. If for no other reason, it was because of the itching on his lips to kiss her and his need to prevent it.  
xxxxxx

Thanks for reading. Sooo…the chappie was decent. Haha. Uneventful but at least we had some A/A action even though Ari had no idea it was really Arthur…and at least we know they're both falling hard and fast despite trying not to. Yay!

Review Please! Then I'll reward us with some more passionate A/A lovin. Hahahahah


	18. Something You Want

Here we go! I think you guys will like this and the next chapter ;) Thanks to: _Julye, feelthefreedom, Guest, cinematherapy, origamifoxes, BewaretheBandersnatch, Dryad Warrior Queen, Legal-Assassin-006, Heimarmene, Miss Ariadne, Lani, lyshapimpin._

**Chapter 17— Something You Want**

"The remaining seats for Flight 491 are now boarding."

Arthur was checked in first. And as Ariadne handed the attendant her ticket, she looked behind her to smile at Eames and caught herself smiling up at a very tall, bearded, redneck man. (He politely returned the smile though.) Confused she looked around him and down the line and spotted Eames leaving the gate and headed away from them. "Can I have that back?" She rushes a smile at the ticket lady and then squirms out of line to run after The Forger.

Ariadne's question perplexed Arthur. He turned halfway through the corridor leading onto the plane and saw her abandoning the line. Naturally, he followed.

"Eames." She called as she neared him. He couldn't hear her…she grunted and picked up her pace, she held her arm out and touched his shoulder, "Eames."

The forger turned and then looked up behind her to see Arthur pushing his way through the crowds and taking his natural long strides to meet up with them. Arthur's face didn't look thrilled; Eames sighed and rolled his eyes, "Ah hell."

"What are you doing?" She looks thoroughly lost.

Arthur was on them now. He gently took hold of Ariadne and pulled on her, "We have to board our flight."

"Wait." She shrugged Arthur off. Curious, suspicious, she kept at Eames, "Where are you going?"

Eames straightened his suit jacket, "Not with you."

"What?" Ariadne pivoted to see if Arthur's reaction was the same as hers. To her surprise it was cool and accepting. It was knowing… "Why aren't you as shocked as I am?"

"We agreed he'd stay behind and help us get a head start."

"No." The Architect whipped back around and tugged on Eames' arm, "It's the three of us, always. Let's go."

Eames slowly pulled her grip off, "I'm going to tie up some loose ends and leave a couple of decoys so you'll have more time in San Fran."

She addressed Arthur, "What if they catch him? I don't want him in the middle of this. If they find out he's been helping us…they'll kill him."

"He knows that."

"**FLIGHT 491, Last Call for Boarding."**

Arthur looked at her expectantly. Again, she turned and threw her arms around Eames neck. She tightened her hold when he said, "I'll be fine." She kissed his cheek sloppily and then rested her head on his shoulder. Ariadne began tearing up.

"Hey now…" He patted her back, "I'll be back to tease the shit out of Arthur in no time."

That earned a laugh through her tears while she looked up at him. "Be careful, Cogburn."

"Aren't I always?" Sweetly the Forger pressed his lips to her forehead and held them there. When he pulled away, she smiled one last time and jogged back to the plane.  
xxxxxx

The sun was setting on their second day in San Francisco and there was no Eames. They'd eaten dinner in relative silence and Ariadne had taken to staring out the window. After he'd cleaned the kitchenette area he joined her. He knew what'd been on her mind. That she was having trouble sleeping and eating and keeping herself busy. That if something happened to Eames she would blame herself. "He'll be ok." Ariadne gave him this unbelieving, 'you're so full of shit' look and trained her eyes back on the last of the sun before it disappeared beneath the horizon. "Really. Eames and I have been on the run plenty of times. He knows how to evade."

"I think you should leave." She proposes with no inflection in her voice, without moving her head or her eyes.

"Excuse me?" Of course he was taken aback.

The Architect finally looked at him and if that is what it felt like to see a Point Man look at you, he was sorry he ever used that face with her. "Go. I don't want you here." Her typical warmth was gone.

"Ariadne…" Arthur shifted his stance, unsure of what to do or how to take it.

She brushed past him and crossed the room over to the door, "I want you to get on a plane to-I don't know where as long as it's far-and I don't care if I ever hear from or see you again." She stood with her arms crossed, beside the door as if she was pointing out the exit for him to use. As if she expected him to use it that second.

"You don't mean that." He held his position.

"Get out, Arthur. Go." The brunette opened the door for him.

Finally, he complied and glided to the door. However, he didn't leave like she wanted. He took it out of her grasp and closed it. "You don't mean that," he repeated.

They stared at each other for minutes on end, daring the other to break first. Their gazes were challenging. _Yes I do _and _No you don't. _After the long pause, surprisingly it was Ariadne whose resolve broke. "No, I don't. But that's what you would tell _me_ to get me to leave...I know about you and Cobb screwing that job up for Cobol. I know there's a price on your head and they've wanted you longer and for much worse. I don't want to lead them to you anymore."

"I'm not leaving you." He locked the deadbolt for emphasis and loosened his tie while he walked away from the door. Arthur was determined for that to be the end of the conversation.

As luck would have it…"I'll be fine. You said yourself Eames would make it and he can help me out for a while." She chased him. Her voice was bordering on a whine as she tried to make him see her way.

When he turned, he hadn't realized how close behind him she was, their breath was mingling together in the air. "Eames or no Eames. I'm _not _leaving you. I don't ever want to leave you."

Ariadne swallowed, "Want?"

So he _could_ leave. And he knew he _should_ leave but he didn't _want _to. Despite his endangerment, despite the stakes, despite his and her better judgment…he _wanted _to stay with her. It wasn't a factor of whether she needed him or not; it was a factor of him wanting to be with her. He wanted to personally oversee her safety whether he trusted it to anyone else or not…and he obviously didn't. Ariadne had deciphered all of this through that simple statement. That Arthur was more attached than he let on, that Arthur might be as deep in as she was. That he wanted to stay with her as long as he could just like she wanted him to stay more than anything. And just like that, she was in an ocean of Arthur. All of a sudden, she was inebriated by the smell of his cologne, the scent of coffee on his breath. All of a sudden being small wasn't a bad thing because he towered over her in all of his mystery and darkness and protectiveness. She could be endlessly enveloped in him and suffocated in him. It started when she involuntarily touched the cuff of his sleeve. It was a patient touch and when she'd realized what she'd done she felt slightly embarrassed so she began fiddling with its hemline, feigning immense curiosity in it.

It was almost too much to handle. He tried to restrain himself. He waited for her skin to brush his but it wouldn't and yet his arm burned with expectation of it, the anticipation. His free hand took on a life of its own and snaked around her waist to pull her closer to him. She looked up, baffled and bit her lip. That always drove him crazy. His hand took hers (the one that'd been thumbing the cuff of his sleeve) and brought it to curve around his neck as he whispered, "Want."

Her breath hitched. He saw it, heard it, _felt_ it. Tentatively, she brought her other arm to join the first. Her fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck. Ariadne spaced out, watching his hand run up and down her forearm, getting lost in the feeling of his other on her waist. She could feel the weight of her totem in her pocket and knew this was reality but still had a hard time believing it. Thoughts stopped when he brought his forehead down to hers and nuzzled their noses together just like in her dream. She could feel his breathe on her lips and though she wanted their lips to meet, she reveled in the way he worshiped her and traced every line on her face with the tip of his nose.

The arm that held hers in place left her as he dug into his pocket for his totem. He felt Ariadne rise up and place a tiny, soft, warm, toe curling kiss on his chin and forgot what he was doing. Everything got hazy. He had to reciprocate in some way…he ardently placed a kiss of the same nature on her neck. The only thought in his head was screaming and begging him to taste her lips. He compromised with himself, told himself he had to work his way up and kissed her jaw, her cheek, then remembered what he was supposed to be doing and fished around for his dice. She tortuously bestowed another on the corner of his mouth and he saw stars. Frantically, he scrambled in his pocket for his die as her lips ghosted across his. Just she was about to apply pressure and kiss him…a glorious thought…he fisted his die tight enough to hurt his palm and he mustered just enough strength to pull away, "No. We can't. I can't let what happened to Mal, happen to you." He had to take steps away from her to break the spell.

"It won't." She stated is like a fact she'd learned in elementary, "I'm not her. I know the difference between reality and a dream."

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, "So did she until she developed feelings for Cobb and vice versa."

"Well the feelings are already there… It's too late to tell me not to feel them." She let him know that she thought he was being completely nonsensical. She took a few steps to him but he retreated back, like she was on fire. Like he was afraid to be close to her again.

"But we can keep them at bay. We can keep the risk from getting—"

"You can't keep doing this to me. You can't look at me like _that _and whisper in my ear and kiss my face one second and then ignore me the next." Ariadne began pacing, "You always do this. You always say and do things that mess with my head and make me believe that you could remotely care about me. Then you refuse to show any regard for me at all!"

The hurt in her voice stilted his resolution to keep his distance. Gradually and heavily, he inched his way back towards her. "I would happily lose myself in you in a heartbeat…But it would _destroy_ me if you lost yourself in the process. Because of me. Because of _this_. You _know_ that I would do anything for you. Anything you asked without the bat of an eye."

"Then kiss me, Arthur." She brushed both of her palms against his, "Tell me what this is. What are we? What am I to you?"

He answered one palm by intertwining his with it and brought her hand up to kiss it. "I want to be with you more than I can bear…but once I kiss those lips there is no going back; there's no hope I'll be able to conceal my emotions around you again."

"Good." She pulled on his collar to bring him down.

"Ariadne, stop. I won't give in to this. I won't be foolish." His voice reverted to its dominant, stoic overtone.

She gave him a look to wither and wilt its victim and pushed passed him. "You should've just told me you hated me and left. It would've hurt less."

"Ari…—"

"Don't call me that." She bit.

"Please try to understand."

"But I don't! I can't understand why you don't need me like I need you. Why you have to purposefully tease me and then rip me apart like this."

"I would never do anything to hurt you." His body tingled…he couldn't stand the way he had to make her feel.

"Pain is in the mind, Arthur." Ariadne quoted.

He had nothing to retort with. Arthur's heart was tightening and cramping and all he pined for was to give her what she desired. The Point Man watched as she tore her eyes away from him and lazily walked to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and went back to staring outside the back window. The city had lost its luster…the lights had no magical effect anymore…the beautiful sunset was now a darkening blue. Arthur watched her intently. The rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the set of her jaw, the constant swallows to keep the lump in her throat at bay. The furrow of her eyebrows. The occasional sip of the water. Thirty-six minutes later (to be exact) he heard her voice again. "There's something you should know…about Cobol. I-uh…I—"

The door jiggled and flung open. Arthur spun around, his gun already retrieved, cocked and aimed at the intruder. He froze. A rush of air attacked him as Ariadne ran past and tackled their visitor. "Eames! I've been so worried."

He noticed the water tracks on her cheeks and brushed them, "No need for tears, Sweetness, I have arrived…And I'm pretty positive no one has tailed me."

"_Pretty_ positive?" The taller man put away his gun and walked to give the man a hug as well.

"Aye… And what have you two been up to?"

"Just talking." Arthur's smoothly rolled the conversation forward.

"Mmm juicy. About?"

"Nothing of importance." Ariadne quipped, "You know, since I know you're ok, I think I'll finally be able to get some sleep." The tiny girl kissed The Forger's cheek and nonchalantly strolled towards her room.

"You weren't throwing yourself at each other now, were you?" Eames joked, laughing, "Declaring your undying love?"

In slow motion, Ariadne spun to glare daggers at him. If looks could kill, hers was Hitler. "I would appreciate it if you stopped joking around like that." Her eyes squinted and she gritted with more malice and venom than the two of them ever heard, "Get it in your head, _Mr. Eames_: Arthur and I don't have _any _feelings for each other whatsoever. He would tell that refrigerator he loved it before he would tell me, so _enough._"

Eames raised his hands in surrender, "Darling, you know me. I was just—"

"Goodnight." She spat and bout faced.

At her doorway, she felt a hand on her wrist and she felt herself being stopped and twisted around, "Ariadne, _please—"_, Arthur was there. He was gripping her wrist like a lifeboat. What she'd said had literally torn him to shreds. Whatever she wanted, he would deliver it on a silver platter if her anger subsided. If she forgave him for what he had to do, what he had to say, for denying her a simple kiss. Whether Eames could see or not, it didn't matter to Arthur. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in crook of hers, desperate—absolutely desperate—for them to rewind time and live in the moment where they explored each other with their foreheads and their kisses, "I have to be this way, _for you_, Ari. Forgive me, please."

"I wish I'd never met you. I wish you'd never kissed me in that stupid dream. And I wish you'd never come to find me. I'd rather be with Cobol." Tears started to shine in her eyes as she forced her thoughts into words.

"You don't m—"

"I hate you and I'm not coming out of this room until one of us is gone." She slammed the door in his face.

Xxxxxx

_Ariadne stood in front of the mirror. One eye, one ear, half a nose, half a mouth. A straight line down the center of her body, jagged, bleeding, flesh falling off. She panicked. "Where am I?"She looked around in the room frantically, "Where'd my other half go?" Ariadne felt slinky arms wrap around her waist and Mal's face appeared in the mirror behind her. _

"_Oh, sweetie," Mal turned the young girl away from the mirror so she could see The Point Man. His own body was intact and his face held no remorse, for in his hand was a bloodied butcher knife and at his feet laid the other half of the Architect's being. "He doesn't need _you _to be whole."_

_Ariadne twisted around to look at Mal in confusion when she found herself tied to train tracks, staring into Arthur's gaze. Her body whole again with his presence. The whistle of the train in the background echoed. He smiled at her with his dimples showing and caressed her cheek. Mal stood over them. "You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away…" Arthur put his forehead to Ariadne's as she listened to Mal's voice purr, "You think you know where this train will take you but you can't know for sure."_

"_But it doesn't matter." Arthur whispered and rubbed his nose against hers, eliciting a sharp intake of her breath and a warmth flooding to her toes. "Tell her why it doesn't matter." His lips were ghosting over hers and refused to make contact until she answered the shade. Ariadne looked up at Mal, "Because you'll be together." _

_The steady beats of the train's wheels were getting faster and faster, the whistle blew right behind them and Ariadne could scarcely hear anything but the loud machinery headed for them. She looked back at her lover and found no one there. He was no longer inches away, holding her protectively, murmuring endearments. Instead she saw Mal's feet as they stepped over her and walked away. Far off in the distance she saw the trench coat, polished shoes and gelled head of her Point Man leaving her behind. Her body back in half, she noticed with horror, the blood trailing from the ragged edge of her flesh and mixing with the dirt beneath her. The train was gaining on her location, Ariadne writhed against her bonds, screaming for Arthur to care enough to save her from this cruel fate.  
xxxxxx_

"You just have no idea how to handle women do you?" Eames scolded.

Arthur was not in the mood for Eames' prodding and poking. He poured himself a short glass of wine and sat on the couch, intent on ignoring the Forger who kept on, "I don't recall Cobb having too much trouble giving in to Mal."

Shit. His reply rolled off the tip of his tongue before he could catch it, "Cobb was weak and selfish."

Eames patted him on the shoulder and hopped over the back of the couch to join Arthur, jostling the furniture and sloshing Arthur's wine in the process. "Actually, I think Cobb was brave to risk everything for his and Mal's happiness."

"Ever heard of learning from mistakes?"

"Ever heard of following an example?"

Arthur looked at Eames condescendingly, "His is not an example I would intentionally follow. I don't desire for Ariadne to purposefully play around in dreams for so long that she forgets reality. I wouldn't want to watch her mind shrivel to the point where she feels she needs to kill herself just so we can have a few dinner dates."

"And so, you wouldn't let her. And so your fates wouldn't be the same as our dear friends. Things don't happen exactly the same way twice, puppet."

Arthur smirked and put on a character, "Look, Eames, I don't care for her in that way. I'm not a lovesick Cobb."

"Arthur!" Eames allowed himself a smile when Arthur leapt to his feet at the sound of her call. "Arthur, come back!" The Point Man was already halfway to her room.  
xxxxxx

"You can't just leave me here like this!"

He pushed the door like it was one of her enemies and knelt by her again. Her body convulsed before she woke. Upon seeing him her eyes set fire, her face contorted to pure repulsion. "How could you do that to me?" Her mind was obviously still recalling the dream's events. "Why would you just leave me there, like that?"

"What are you talking about?"

All of her thoughts were bleeding together. Arthur had forced her to care for him, had driven her to the point of heartbreaking desire and then denied her any reciprocation. He had teased her, made her believe she was special, that she meant something to him and then walked away from it all. She was on the verge of knowing the passion Mal tormented her with. She knew what it was like to care for someone so much that she'd surrendered half of herself for him but he wouldn't do the same. He wouldn't allow himself to become that vulnerable, he wouldn't complete her whole. He would forever leave her tied to those tracks screaming at him that nothing mattered if they were together. He would let her own train destroy her and keep telling himself that it was keeping her safe. She hated him for it. Hated him for the beautiful torture he'd instilled in her mind, the back and forth of wanting and despising him. "Get out of my room."

"It was just a dream."

"Get out of my room!"  
xxxxxx

He blinked after closing her door. Would this be it from now on? Had he cut her so deeply that she had nightmares about him hurting her? Leaving her to her own demise? Then again, what had he expected after their fight? Her to pull his arms around her and let him talk her to sleep?

"What were you saying…about not caring for her? Not being lovesick…"

He sighed and refilled his wine glass, "Eames, could we drop the subject for tonight? I have research."

"You did find out that it was Cobol after her, didn't you?" Arthur's head snapped back to Eames. Eames continued, "Yes. I read the files you printed and stowed away under your sink…Heard the conversation you two shared before we left the Keys . Why would _they_ be after her, Arthur? What would they have against her? They know nothing of her except that every job you take, you drag her into as well. Even _Cobol_ sensed your attachment—and lightyears before you and Ariadne ever did, might I add. They want her because lord knows physically torturing you would do them no good if they want revenge. But turning the one person who can pull emotions out of you, against you? Physically torturing her, threatening her life, making her hate you…that scares you, doesn't it?"

The Point Man clenched his jaw and shook his head, looking anywhere but the forger. Eames shrugged, "Someone finally found your weakness, Artie. And its name is Ariadne Grace Bourgeois." The Brit stood, patted Arthur's back and headed to bed himself, leaving Arthur to down the rest of his wine with the bitter truth of his words.

Love was a strong word. But he was, in fact, headed down that path with the nature of an avalanche. And he was, in fact, very terrified of what Cobol might do to her.  
xxxxxx

_He was in the hotel hallway. Routinely Arthur pulled the room key from his jacket pocket, slid it into the door and entered their suite. The lights were dimmed low and there she was. Her hair flowed effortlessly down her back in perfect curls and she wore a gauzy, white dress. It rested on one shoulder and then laid across her features elegantly, rippling in the wind that came in through the open window. Ariadne glowed; His angel paying a visit from heaven. She looked so light and frothy…like clouds, bubbles, whipped cream, cotton candy. The Point Man was mesmerized at her ethereal beauty. "Come here," she chimed. It was melodious and irresistible like the sirens of the sea. Her eyes large and creamy; they held innocence, purity…and yet they were fierce, shining for her lover. Helpless to it all, Arthur's feet seemed to float towards her. A goofy, infatuated grin plastered on his face. He hadn't even made it three feet before a glass wall made itself known. He collided into it. The thick glass kept him from reaching her as someone else appeared out of thin air. A man. Navy blue suit pants and a woolen navy blue Pea coat and an infinity scarf. The man set his briefcase down by the sofa and took off his scarf as Ariadne began unbuttoning his coat. Why was she looking at him like that? Like that man was the whole world, like he was all she needed to survive. 'I missed you,' Arthur read her lips. The man smirked and replied, 'I missed you more, Sweetheart.' A vein in Arthur's forehead felt like it burst as the man pulled her to him by the waist. Anger, betrayal, jealousy, hurt: All emotions he suffered as Ariadne snaked her arms around the man's neck, pulled up to her tip-toes and leaned her forehead against his. Why did Arthur have to watch this intimate moment? Watch as they smiled, lost in each other. _

_Then the man pulled a butcher knife and held it menacingly behind her back. Arthur had to warn her. Her life was in danger. He pounded on the glass to no avail, "Ariadne!" The knife sunk into her back and the man pulled it out gradually. Drops of bright red sprinkled her pristine white dress but she had paid no mind. The stab didn't seem to hurt her. The lovers kept murmuring things with their heads close, grinning, laughing, biting lips. The Point Man observed, befuddled. The knife plunged back into her back as she tenderly fixed the man's tie and pulled out as she caressed his ear. Again the knife disappeared into the Architect's body—this time twisting around—while the man's other hand took hers and kissed her palm. But this man was hurting her, he was threatening her life…why did she continue to revere him? The drops became streams that trickled down the layers of her dress and stained the carpet. Arthur had to make her see that her love was dangerous; she needed to put it to a stop before something horrible happened. He threw his fists into the wall yet again, "Ariadne! Hey! Ariadne!"_

"_Arthur, stop."_

_That voice was too familiar. Standing next to him was the run down, roughed up man he called his best friend, "Cobb?"_

_Cobb tapped the glass and shrugged, "She can't hear you. You've built your walls and alienated yourself…and it looks like she's moved on."_

_Arthur looked at Cobb's approving gaze on Ariadne and the stranger and reasoned with him, disgusted, "He's killing her."_

"_Ah.." Cobb's mouth upturned dreamily, "Killing her softly with passion…the best way to go."_

_Since Cobb seemed to have all the answers, he inquired, "Who is he?"_

"_He could be anyone…He could be the barista at her favorite coffee shop, he could be an old high school sweetheart that's rekindled the flame, he could be the chemist she works with three jobs from now, he could be Eames…he could be me…but the point is that it's not you and while you're safe and sound behind these walls, it never will be."_

_The taller man returned his eyes to the Architect and whoever held her at the moment. It was wrong. That was _his _smile, _his _eye lock. That was the way she touched _him. _It all belonged to Arthur and she was giving it away. "Tell me how to break the walls down."_

_Cobb shook his head sympathetically and clicked his tongue, "It's too late, Arthur. She's his."_

"_No, she's MINE!" His fists flew into the glass. How could Cobb say that? How could he side with that stranger? Since Ariadne woke up in the warehouse after being stabbed by Mal, she was his. He claimed her. And that idiot standing in their suite, in Arthur's place, holding Arthur's girl…couldn't possibly love Ariadne more than him. It was a universal fallacy that anyone could measure their feelings for her up to a fraction of Arthur's. Livid now, Arthur gritted at Cobb, "Tell me how to get to her. Tell me how to break this damn barrier between us." _

_Cobb sighed, "You'll figure it out…but I'm afraid its set in stone that when you do, it'll be too late." With that Cobb walked through the wall and disappeared. _

_Reeling Arthur snapped his head back to the couple. The stranger had led her to the ledge of the window; he dropped his head dangerously close to hers. The Point Man's hands pressed against the glass, "Don't. Don't kiss him, Ari. If you kiss him, it'll decimate me." She raised her head to meet the mystery man's mouth and their lips rose and fell together. It caused a sharp, piercing pain and Arthur wouldn't watch anymore…he turned to leave the way he came. He was face to face with the same scene. He turned to the side, there were the lovers. Everywhere he turned, it was all he could see through the glass. Before they broke apart completely, the other man jumped off the ledge and—Arthur assumed—plunged to his death. If Ariadne did the same-_

_Brown eyes spotted him. And they were…indifferent to him. Unfeeling. Unforgiving. She couldn't hear his words through the thick shield but her eyebrows crinkled and her head tilted in confusion as she watched his lips move. They seemed to soundlessly plead, 'Please, come back inside. Don't this to me. I was wrong, I don't want to push you away…Ariadne?'_

_It was a tight lipped smile but it was a smile. Her head swiveled back around to look out the window in the same second the thick glass walls shattered around him. One foot stepped out onto the air—Arthur sprinted for her. "Ariadne, wait!" His fingers brushed against her hand and grabbed it as she let herself fall off the edge. She slipped through his palms. Without the bat of an eyelash, without thinking twice, he jumped after her.  
_xxxxxx

Cold sweat. He hadn't dreamt on his own in years and it was about her. About losing her, and not only through death but to another man. The message his subconscious was trying to tell him was loud and clear: If he let those walls stay, if he let them grow thicker each day…it'd be worse than anything Cobb had to endure. Arthur threw the covers off and headed for her bedroom.

"Woah, now, what are you doing?" Eames got up from in front of the tv and stood in Arthur's way.

"I need to talk to her."

"No. You need to give her space. It's 3am, Arthur, now is not the time to do this."

"It can't wait; I have to fix this."

He tried to maneuver around the Forger but he caught his shoulders, "I never thought I'd have to say this you but: Think with your head. Not with your heart…" Arthur scrunched his face. "Think about how she must feel right no-"

"Exac—"

"You've been back and forth enough on her for one night. Let her sleep on it. If you go in there right now I can guarantee she wouldn't listen to what you have to say anyway."

The Point settled. "You're right."  
xxxxxx

Eames woke first. He'd been the first of the group to get some sleep after world war three the night previous. He lazily rolled out of bed and pulled a robe on. One that perfected his sense of style and matched the tacky green, silk striped pajama pants he insisted on wearing. (They were better than the Hawaiian floral set, so no one complained.) He made himself a cup of coffee and poured in the French Vanilla flavoring the hotel had provided. With a yawn, he sat in the dining area and gulped down the hot liquid.

In the corner of his eye he caught…(his eye glinted and he wiggled his eyebrows with an evil grin)…a love note, perhaps? Squiggly lines neatly laid on paper declaring the pain in ass' undying affections for the pretty little Architect. Eames' giddy nature couldn't stand itself, so he slid the paper over to himself slowly. He looked around and unfolded it. It wasn't Arthur's handwriting though…it was bubblier, more girly. (Even though Eames wouldn't put anything girly past that pansy of a man.) Eames licked his lips, so this was a love letter from Tiny to Arthur?  
xxxxxx

Eames burst through his door; The Point Man awoke due to the noise. Eames held up her note, "She's gone."

"Excuse me?" He flitted to the Forger and snatched the letter out of his hand. It had read,

_Eames,  
You deserve to hear this in person but we all know it wouldn't have flown. I can't stand people who run and hide from their problems…and that's what I've been doing. My presence only puts you and Arthur in danger and I can't let myself do it anymore. I have to own up and face them. Please, don't come after me. I'm capable of handling it on my own. I promise. By the time you find this, I'll already be there. Thank you for everything. If our paths don't cross again, know that you're one of my best friends. _

_Always, A_

Arthur swallowed, "Was there not another note? One for me?" Though he already knew the answer.

Eames shook his head sadly and then clarified for Arthur. Clearly he was in a state of shock and hadn't understood the entirety of her letter, "Arthur, she turned herself in to Cobol."

No, he hadn't grasped that. Because when Eames declared it, Arthur's eyes shot to Eames' in panic. His eyes ran over her note again and again…"No…" All of his sudden, his knees felt weak and he used his bed to lower himself to sit on the ground. His worst nightmare had come true. "They're going to break her to pieces…she'll never leave them alive."

"Well let's go! Grab your gun, we'll go after her!"

"Cobol wanted her to use against me…they know she was with us. They'll want me to pay a visit…" He sat on the couch, clutching her note in one hand and holding his phone expectantly in the other. As if on cue, it rang and a restricted number popped on his screen. "Yes?"

"Hello, Arthur. I think we may have something you want…"  
xxxxxx

Uh ohh! What's going to happen to Ariadne? We're fixing to face the enemy guys! Review so we can see what happens…

**If you're one of those readers who gets antsy and bored between updates: **I've got some elaborations to this story on my profile. Like the story banner, links to the different songs I've used and what I've pictured Ariadne wearing. The dress she wore in Arthur's nightmare was newly added too! So if I'm slacking on the updates and you get bored or something…tada!


	19. Daredevil

Hello again! I'd like to thank my lovelies: _feelthefreedom, FredNeverDied, Legal-Assassin-006, tiger126, CassandraRoyal, Miss Ariadne, Juliet, PrincessLove123, juliet257, The Angry Lioness, Lani, InBlue85, QuirkyJerky, Slythindor2007, origamifoxes, ItsNatalie, annlyhn1807, mikailah13._

**Chapter 17— Daredevil**  
xxxxxx

They locked Eames in a compartment of his own. This wasn't about him, had nothing to do with him; they could've let him go but he could be useful in the future, so they kept him. If anything, they could beat him if they got bored. However, they dragged Arthur to big, white, empty conference room upstairs. The CEO, Travis was waiting.

"Take me to her."

Travis chuckled, "Let's not forget who's in charge here. If you want to see her again…" he snapped his fingers and a figure was shoved in. He was concealed in a hoodie and jeans with a potato sack over his face. "…you'll beat up this man to my satisfaction."

Arthur hesitated; the man was shorter than him. Cobb…he couldn't. Travis raised his voice, "You want to see her again?" The Point Man reasoned. He would let Cobb beat him up if the roles were reversed and it were his children in danger. He braced himself and punched Cobb in the stomach. Cobb doubled over grasping his middle.

"Again."

Arthur punched him in the nose. "More."

Arthur thought of the architect and shoved Cobb against the wall and kneed his crotch. Cobb slid down the wall and pulled his knees to himself, trying to cover his head and hold his hand up in surrender at the same time. Before he could raise his hand he heard "Kick him" sail through the potato sack. Arthur obeyed and kicked the man in the side so that he fell over cradled in a fetal position. Arthur looked at Travis with defiance, he hated him for this. "In the stomach. Until I say."

Arthur shot daggers at Travis and told the crumpled figure he was sorry before he obliged and rammed kick after kick into it. Cobb began to cough but it sounded stilted, like there was duct tape. If he suffocated, there would be no more torture…"Enough."

"Where the hell is she?"

Travis knelt down and ripped the potato sack and duct tape off of- "Right here…" She grimaced and grunted.

"Ariadne!" Arthur started pick her up but was restrained by two brawny men. Arthur was horrified, he wanted to kill himself. He'd beaten up Ariadne, thinking she was Cobb. He watched with the heaviest of guilt as she coughed for breath. He struggled against the men while Travis peeled her off the floor, forced her to stand and pushed her towards his minions who dragged her out.

"Let her go. This is between you and I." Arthur grunted.

Travis quirked an eyebrow, "Indeed it is. Which is why she's been pulled in the middle of it."

Arthur stared questioningly. "We both know that I could beat you to a pulp but you have an unusually high tolerance for pain. However, you have a habit of locking your emotions away. Why do you think you do that? I think, because you know if your emotions have the slightest bit of air they will take over and control you. I think that you are actually a very emotionally driven person, Arthur, because you bottle them up so obsessively. But not around her. Something about her won't allow you to ignore your feelings."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He deadpanned with a bored expression.

Travis smiled viciously, "I know that on recent jobs you've signed you and Ariadne on as a package, never taking a job without her being attached. I know about the friendly business dinners at that run down cafe, I know about the excuse you made to visit Paris for an evening at the Louvre. I know the hysterical nature you adopted as you chased her across the globe and I know she has quite the feelings for you as well."

"You know nothing."

"I know about that kiss in the park…"

Xxxxxx  
_Ariadne had been in the park working on homework when Arthur called. Not too long after, he'd joined her and brought some takeout. They mostly sat in silence; he would ask some architecture related questions now and again as he typed furiously away on his laptop. When they were working, they were robots. But they had had a conversation when they took a break to eat lunch. It was late…about 2. _

_The way she laughed. Her eyes always squinted dangerously close to shut. The tip of her tongue pressed against her top teeth. When she laughed there was no pretense, no stress. She wasn't trying to be mature or business-like or cognitive. She was purely Ariadne. Bubbly, lighthearted, optimistic Ariadne. He was sure she could control the world if she wanted to. Even when her big brown eyes were trained on her textbooks, they held a fire in them, ready to devour knowledge and determined to bring down anything that stood in her way. _

"_I really do think Eames is a secret softie!"_

_He scoffed, "Whatever suits you, Ariadne."_

_Something behind her caught his attention. Brown eyes peeking through shaggy blonde hair, fixing their attentions on the bobbing brunette curls of the girl in front of him. Arthur scrutinized the man up and down with his eyes. He certainly wasn't a company man to worry about; just some punk. Arthur may have slightly loosened his tie upon seeing the way this guy was dressed. Skinny jeans, plaid button up, beanie…scarf….  
He focused back on Ariadne, whose eyes were furrowed with amusement, "What are you looking at?" She turned her head, "Tom!" Her voice held a delightful quality. She sounded happy to see this guy…calling him over to her. Arthur hadn't nearly gotten the same reaction when he'd arrived._

"_Hey," his boyish smile was charming, "you, uh, in the middle of a job interview, or?" He looked at Arthur and stifled a chuckle. Arthur sat up straighter._

"_No." She laughed along, "Just an old friend."_

"_Excited about that test tomorrow?"_

_She turned her back to Arthur and leant back on her hands, looking up at Tom, "No; shoot me please?"_

"_I'm afraid the world would be consumed in a black hole." She kicked his ankle before he asked, "Wanna study later? Gus' Diner sound good?"_

"_Sounds like the best thing I've heard all day." _

_Was that a drip of jealousy in the back of his throat? Couldn't be. No it was something else. Arthur was skeptical about this boy because he was protective of the Architect. That's it. Of course. Looking back on the memory though…it was most certainly envy._

"_Cool," He eyed Arthur, "I'll text you."_

_She nodded and turned back to Arthur. Feeling like she needed an explanation…she told him that Tom was in her French Lit class and they normally studied together. They had been placed in the same orientation group and since then, they kinda stuck together when they ran into each other or shared classes._

"_He keeps looking over here." Arthur states suspiciously._

_She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he does that. My friend Edith insists he's in love with me." _

_It was a glint Ariadne had never seen in his eye. Save for once. Arthur was rarely mischievous, rarely humorous. It made her uncomfortable that he looked at her that way but it also excited her, "What?" She smiled._

"_I know how to fix that," One of his eyebrows raised and her stomach did a cartwheel, "Quick, give me a kiss."_

_At first Ariadne remained still and narrowed her eyes. Then she smirked at the memory and playfully did as he requested. It lasted a split second. It was a peck for her. A joke. A reenactment._

_It lasted a split second. To Arthur, it was soft and tender. Gratifying. He'd given in to that nagging curiosity in the back of his mind as to whether or not her kiss was as enjoyable in reality as it was in his dream. _

_Ariadne pulled away looking back at this Tom and laughed, "It actually worked this time! He's not—"_

_She turned her head to be met with Arthur's lips on her own again. Her eyes widened as he pressed them lightly and then fluttered closed as she melted into him. He deepened the kiss and slid his hand behind her head, he kissed deeper and deeper. He was leaning over her, lowering her to lay on the grass on her back. Her hand had slipped into his hair but as Ariadne was slipping away into putty, he broke contact, embarrassed. She, too, was bewildered by Arthur's actions…she stood, wide eyed, the moment becoming awkward for both of them. Ariadne gulped nervously and went for her books and this tipped Arthur off to what had just taken place. He'd kissed her. Again. Laid her back on the ground… "Ariadne, I'm sorry…" He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked back to her, "That was completely out of line."_

"_N-no, it's fine. It was a joke…it was—our inside joke." Everything rushed out of her mouth spastically. _

"_Please don't leave because of that."_

_Ariadne patted his shoulder, "Good luck on your job, Arthur." There went that part again. The part when in one pivot of her heel, they became strangers again. The part when he was unsure of when after the job he'd be able to check on her again. His hand gravitated to the spot she'd patted, his finger traced his lips where hers had been and he realized: He was in deep trouble. He'd gotten attached. Ariadne wasn't just another architect anymore. Ariadne wasn't Cobb or Eames or Yusuf or Lucas or Jacobs or Mankens…it mattered to him what she did every day. It mattered to him if she was safe, scared, what have you. It mattered to him knowing exactly when the next time he saw her would be. Their comfortable small chatter, the twinkle in her eyes, hearing her laugh…those things all mattered. They mattered more than they were ever supposed to. He hadn't worked on a job since Inception without her…he didn't want to work on another without her either. Her company was too appealing. Could he go through his life without seeing her again, now? Without checking up on her? Occasionally calling? It was hard to imagine. If he must fuel his infatuation, it would be subtly. He would go the required amount of time without contact and book her on every job he could find himself. They would be like Cobb and Arthur were: a package of talented individuals. It was a valid compromise. He could keep it professional but still be around her often. _

_Her presence was paradise. The Garden of Eden. Yet, she was the forbidden fruit. Her attentions possessed the good and the bad. He could sit as close to the apple tree as he wanted but he could never have that apple, unless he wanted his paradise ripped out from under him and to be barred from it forever. _

xxxxxx

Arthur felt the sickening feeling of worry, "What do you want?"

"I want revenge, Arthur. My life is a mess and it's your fault. You failed to check the details of Nash's work. It's your fault the extraction on Saito failed. And not only did you fail, you aided my biggest rival in gaining full control of the energy industry. My wife left me for another man after that…I sent some of my men to kill that bastard and bring her back but in the crossfire she was killed. You will know my pain before this is all over, Arthur."

"Go ahead and kill me."

"When I'm good and ready. You think I'll let you off that easily? You will live each day drowning in the agonizing emotions of losing the one person that makes feeling them worthwhile until I decide."

He snapped his fingers at the doorman. "You have five minutes." The pushed her back inside.

Travis and his men left the beater and beaten to themselves. Arthur pulled her closer to him, "Ariadne, I'm so sorry. So sorry…I didn't know it was—" He scanned her body and memorized every inch of injury he'd inflicted. He hugged her to him, "God, Ariadne, I'm so, so…"

She pushed away, "You shouldn't have come! What are you doing here?"

"Did you really think a note would keep me from it? It wasn't even addressed to me."

"Boohoo."

"You didn't leave me one. You didn't think I needed an explanation too?"

Ariadne shrugged, "Or didn't deserve one."

Arthur shook his finger at her, "No, that's not fair. Just because you were upset doesn't mean everything I've done was for naught. You couldn't have left me one line? You know how hurt I was?"

The Architect folded her arms across her chest, "Must be terrible. I couldn't possibly know what that's like…"

"Don't do that."

"What?" She spat.

"Act like you're the only one my decision affects! You don't know the battles I've fought with myself in my head; you don't know how painful it's been for me to keep my distance thus far. Cobol went through _all _this trouble to get you, to get to me, because even _they_ know how I really feel about you –And goddammit, Ariadne, if you don't know that by now, too. Don't pretend like you mean nothing to me…you know better."

One of her eyebrows raised while he continued but dropped to a low whisper, "I don't know how you got under my skin. I don't know how you did it…but you broke me. And you know what? I don't want to be fixed. Last night, what I was trying to make you understand was how precarious our relationship would be. You're here because of me…This is what happens to people who get attached."

She huffed, still annoyed, "I know…" and looked away.

"But when I woke up this morning and found out you left me…I realized I could lose you just as easily-but sooner- by refusing you. Why should I sacrifice guaranteed happiness for a _chance_ of pain?" This softened her attitude towards him and the Architect let him pull her so that their noses touched. He began running his hand up and down her arm, "I would rather feel the insurmountable, stinging, pain than to go back to feeling nothing at all…I can only feel things when I'm with you, Ari…"

"Are you sure?" she breathed. "Because I can't take anymore false hope, Arthur.

He played with the tips of her hair, "If being with you—feeling this way—is dangerous… then I want to be your daredevil."

She could feel his hot breath on her lips and titled her head back to give him access. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he breathed in her scent. He'd wanted it for too long not to savor how close she was. His hand slowly rose to brush the back of her neck and anchor her head even closer to his. He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb and closed his eyes, itching for contact with her. Their lips barely brushed before-

"Ariadne."

They froze. She composed herself, looked at him apologetically, "I have to go," she tugged her arm away.

"Just one kiss. Real quick." He twisted her around, eyes pleading.

The Architect grabbed his face and—"NOW."

She turned and disappeared behind the door before their captor took another breath.

Xxxxxx

They isolated him in that room for hours. When he thought they were bringing him a meal, they brought a chair, rope and headphones. They strapped him down and duct taped the headphones on his ears. They were wired to give him ears into Ariadne's confinement room. For what felt like centuries his body writhed to either break free and stop her pain or shake the earbuds off so he wouldn't have to hear it. Her yells, her gasps for breath, her firm refusal to say she hated Arthur which resulted in more yells and gasps for breath. He heard her cough, he heard her plead, he heard her cry. When he heard silence his body was confused. Should it rush relief through him? Should he bask in the peace and quiet that soothed his ears? Or should it send sharps pangs of worry to his chest and toes? Should his body convulse to loosen his bonds? Was she alright?

Travis' lackeys burst into his room, ripped the earphones off his head, and cut his bondage. He didn't even have the time to process he was free again before they rushed out of the room and threw Ariadne's beaten body inside once more.

"Two minutes."

He'd learned his lesson. He wasted no time tugging her wrist to bring her closer. He pulled her head to his and crashed his lips against hers. He felt her rub her hands up his chest and wrap around his neck. She parted her lips for him to kiss her more feverishly. He did and he snaked his arms around her waist in the process. Arthur rubbed circles into the small of her back with his thumb and she pulled away for air. "Arthur," she meant it as a warning but it came out a sigh and it unleashed adrenaline into him. He couldn't stand her lips not being on his so he covered hers again but this time gentler and slower. He ceased her bottom lip and held his lips against hers, pressured but unmoving. He waited for her. Such a shame this kiss was under such dire circumstances. She deepened the kiss so slowly it tortured him. She took her time just brushing the tip of her tongue against the tip of his. It drove him insane but he let her kiss him how she wanted, since he'd already had the privilege. Ariadne pulled away a hair and brushed her lips against his. Arthur brushed back, begging her to close the space between them. One last kiss and she was called away. He pecked her before they seized her arms and pulled her away.

Not wanting to be left alone, not after that, he followed them as the drug her out, "No!" He looked at her like he worried they'd take her into the hallway and execute her. She tried to reassure him—the open wounds and purpled skin on her body didn't help—"I'll be fine…"

"Ari…"

"They'll bring me back." She nodded, trying to convince herself of the same thing.

Their eyes never left the other's until she was long gone and even then Arthur still stared in that direction. If her presence could consume him in emotions so joyful, so ineffable, so arduous and beautiful and intense…he couldn't imagine the emotions that would smother him in her permanent absence. Guilt, inconsolable anguish, torment, pangs of mortification, heartbreak, stabs of sorrow…surely all would physically asphyxiate him. He remained staring in the direction she left, becoming numb at the mere thought of losing her love before he had it.

Xxxxxx

We got a kiss! Woot! Please reviewwwww


	20. RICOCHET

Sorry, I know I normally update way faster than this. Thank you to these people for getting me back on the ball: _Miss Ariadne, snapdragon17, cinematherapy, Legal-Assassin-006, feelthefreedom, invisiblereader13, Lani, ariel1200s, FredNeverDied, SophieImpala, secilmis yazar, Physhiephox _

**Chapter 20—RICHOCHET.**

_Brace yourselves guys._  
xxxxxx

They brought her down several corridors to a hallway of privy rooms. They shoved her inside one. It was dark and cramped and she could vaguely make out a bed, a dresser, a table and chair and a closet bathroom. Travis and his men let her stand there in the darkness for who knows how long until the light flipped on and she saw the person lying in the bed. _Hera Bourgeois_…looking nothing like Hera Bourgeois. She was a bag of bones to put it frankly. Her skin was pallid, her eyes sunken in and her head was bald now. Her arm was hooked up to an iv that dripped constantly. Ariadne rushed to her sister's side. Hera started to rustle and peeled open her eyes. "Addy?"

Ariadne caressed her sister's cheek and sat on the edge of her bed, "Yeah, Hera. I'm here. I'm so sorry I haven't been…"

Weakly, Hera reached up and combed her fingers through her little sister's hair, "No..you need to get _out_."

"I'm afraid she is ours for the keeping." Travis intervened and combed his hand through Ariadne's locks much like her sister had—though his intent was malicious-, "You're lucky we've needed to keep her alive to use against you when we got our hands on you. I wanted to let her shrivel up and die."

The Architect stood and pushed Travis' chest, "You're detestable. She's sick! She has Cancer!"

"She's been on a chemo drip the entire time. You're welcome." He winked.

"Bastard."

"Don't worry we still found a way to punish you for hiding." His arrogant simper made her want to gag herself. The villain pressed his earpiece and ordered someone to come in. The door creaked open and in stepped a tall man who seemed very much like a boy. His once shaggy black hair had been buzz cut. His normal scruff had been shaved clean. Instead of his typical corduroys, fitted tee, cardigan and scarf, he was dressed in a pressed grey suit. Despite his abnormal appearance, Ariadne still recognized the figure as, "Ganymede!" and ran to envelop her brother in a warm embrace.

He pushed her off of him robotically, "Don't touch me."

"Gany…" Something was different about his eyes and the way he looked at his younger sister.

Ganymede ignored her, "Where are we keeping this one?"

"'This one'?" Ariadne took his face in her hands, "Gany, what did they do to you?"

Like he was disgusted by her touch, he pulled her hands off, "Cobol wouldn't do anything to me. They're my family."

"No, Hera and I are your family."

"No. _She _is a crippled hostage and _you _are Ariadne Bourgeois. You're the delinquent we've been chasing around the globe; the key to breaking our number one enemy." He addressed the head of operations again, "If you don't require anything, Sir, I'll retire to my quarters."

"That is all. You're excused."

When the door shut behind him, Travis revealed, "Saito isn't the only one capable of rearranging one's mind, babe. It was costly but _so_ worth it. You and your family need to understand the consequences of your actions…Hope you like the accommodations," He motioned around the room, "You'll be staying in one just like it down the hall."

Roughly, he snatched her arm and pulled her out of the room and down the hall to hers. Half grunting from resistance and half yelling with anger, Ariadne asked him, "What, I don't get any slack for turning myself in? For _coming _to _you_?"

"Your slack was my generosity towards your siblings and the forger."

"Denying Hera the medical attention she needs, destroying my brother's mind and letting your men beat up Eames for entertainment is considered generosity, Travis?!"

He shoved her into her room and met her sneer with his own, "I could've killed them…and I still can…so they might appreciate your compliancy."

The door slammed soon after and a bolt could be heard locking. Ariadne was surrounded with metal and sterile whiteness. She collapsed on the bed and mentally beat herself up for allowing this to happen to her family. She should've known that when she ran, they would want revenge. Cobol always taught lessons. She'd prepared her grandmother for what or who might come but she'd not thought about making sure her older siblings-who lived back in the states- were covered too. Hera was so weakened since she'd been diagnosed that Ariadne had thought Cobol wouldn't find any use in her. She hadn't talked to Gany in ages…why would they go to him for information? He wouldn't have any. Hera looked worse than ever…Cobol had had her too long and what they'd done to Ganymede was entirely Ariadne's fault. Had she not deliberately pissed the company off, they wouldn't have wanted to punish her for her mistakes. What could be worse? Eames and Arthur were now in Cobol's clutches as well.  
xxxxxx  
Travis entered Arthur's room lazily. He pulled up a chair, faced it backwards and propped himself on it in front of Arthur's face. "How's it going, bud?"

Arthur's head hung low. The Point Man ignored the man in front of him, pretended he was the wind and nothing more. It didn't frustrate Travis; In fact, he chuckled. Travis was too delighted with himself. He stood and paced the room like he was king, "Point Man of the Decade, Master of Invisibility, Mr. Invincible…You're somewhat of a myth in the Dreamshare World aren't you? No corporation, no CEO's, no hit men dare waste their time looking for you. You move so fast and stay so hidden you might as well not exist. And yet…here you are. In the flesh. At my mercy, The Great Arthur Nolan."

Maybe Arthur was asleep. Maybe he'd gone deaf. Whatever he was, he wasn't present in the conversation. He let Travis recite his monologue and didn't move an inch. He didn't have to address him or acknowledge his presence and he wouldn't.

"Architect of the Century."

Arthur's head shot up and tried to pin the intruder against the wall with his stare.

"At least that's how you described her in the recommendation for the Paquin job. You know, the one you had to cancel to come to her rescue." Travis sat once again and opened a manila folder. He grinned at Arthur before he picked a page inside and pulled it out. He recited, "Consistency is key. Architects play an integral part in the success of a job. It takes artistry, creativity, focus and passion, all of which Miss Bourgeois has in excess. From experience, I've come to know that through her minute attention to detail, her work ethic and drive for excellence, that there is no one better equipped in the business. A veteran of three jobs-her first being a successful inception- she would be the ideal addition to our team." Travis paused to make eye contact with Arthur pointedly before he enunciated Arthur's last statement, "_She is perfection._"

Arthur ground his jaw but refused to speak. Travis continued to pressure him. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "You don't think anyone is perfect…that word alone put her on the map. I thought you were smarter than that. Come on, Arthur. _Really?_ You let yourself fall for a plain little girl from Paris?" Travis dumped packets of paper out of the folder onto the ground. "One," He picked up a letter to an employer that praised Ariadne. "Two," he tossed it and threw another in the air. "Three," he plucked another from the ground and flicked it into Arthur's face. "You just couldn't get enough of her, apparently." Travis dumped out the rest of the contents in the folder. Candid pictures of Ariadne flew and scattered all over the ground. Pictures of her alone, with friends, at the coffee shop, at school, in her desk, at the market, unlocking her flat's front door…her medical records, a copy of her birth certificate, her permit, her driver's license in the states, her student id in France, her phone bill, her electricity bill…all of it in a heap on the floor. "You made it all too easy to pinpoint her as a target…I give you credit for _trying_ to make it look professional, though. It was so obvious, Nolan! You and Cobb have been partners for centuries and you never recommended him for anything. No praise, nothing. But _you_ _wanted her_ to be with you for every job…"

Travis patted Arthur's cheek and winked, "Congratulations. She's with you on this one, too."

Arthur wanted to scrape that satisfied look off of the CEO's face. His hands and feet still bound, he stood with the chair hooked to his back and lunged at Travis. The chair broke when they collided to the tile together. Arthur was on his knees and thrusting his bound hands into Travis' stomach while the latter fought to fend him off and move the cheap metal rods of the chair so he could stand. Once he was upright, he armed himself with the metal leg of the chair and prepared to blast Arthur in the head with it. Nimble as he was, Arthur jumped from his knees and landed on his feet. He ducked when the rod swung over his head and then took hold of the end of it as best he could to twist and spin Travis around and up against the wall. Travis hit it hard and in the midst of his breath being knocked out, he let go of the rod and left it in Arthur's grasp. Arthur raised it with his bound hands above Travis but the man regained his breathing pattern and caught Arthur's wrists. They were in a battle of strength and Arthur was winning. Soon, the rod would be driven through Travis' head. Then Travis opened his mouth. "You hurt me and she's dead. All of my men know that if anything happens to me, she is the first to die and they're standing by. Cause and Effect."

Arthur let the rod fall to the ground with a resounding clank. He let Travis push him down and tie his hands to the metal bedpost bolted to the wall. Travis wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve and turned to leave. But first, Arthur threatened him. He spit blood out of his mouth and seethed, "If something happens to _you, _your little _robots_ are programmed to make sure _she's_ dead, correct?"

"Good, you understand."

"No, _you _understand: If something happens to _her… I _am programmed to make sure that _every last one of you _with a Cobol badge is obliterated. How is that for cause and effect?"

Unfazed and unbelieving, Travis shut the door saying, "I'll have someone bring in another chair for you."  
xxxxxx

That was it for day one. And days that couldn't be counted passed that Arthur neither heard nor saw the Architect. Every time his door opened he prayed for one of two things. Either they'd take him to see her—no matter her condition, at least he would know—or they'd go ahead and kill him so he wouldn't have to live in the anxiety. His mind was a tempest; He lived in constant anticipation but the schedule was always the same. They'd bring him bread and water in the morning, rough him up, retie his bonds and leave. Travis would come in and psychologically poke him with taunts and hints about Ariadne without ever giving him information on her wellbeing. They would leave him to himself until lunch. They wouldn't feed him then but come in to harass. Those idiots were always easy to ignore…but then Travis would come in again. And it was the worst part of the day—the time before dinner—because he would bring in pieces of Ariadne's clothing. Not articles but legit pieces. The first few days it was scraps of her scarf. And then in was a lock of her hair. And one day it was her shoe and the next the other. Most recently it had been her blood spattered, torn shirt that Travis had hung in the corner of his cell like a flag, a banner. Then roughly half an hour later they would bring in another slice of bread and cup of water. Sometimes they would spray him with hot water to shower him-clothes still on. Then hopefully—usually—they would leave him for the night. But this once, it was different; when Travis came back in he brought a potato sack for his head and ordered him to follow.

Xxxxxx

Travis knew what he was doing. Ariadne was intuitive enough to know that he was leaving her alone just for suspense. Things had been mostly quiet. Ganymede would bring in bread and water twice a day, sometimes Travis would visit just to screw with her and wave her sister around in front of her face and he'd demanded some of her clothes at one point but for the most part, no one had laid a hand on her since the day Arthur accidentally beat her. That is—until the CEO burst into her room one day, grabbed her wrist and pulled her out into the hall. Roughly and without explanation he tugged her into the elevator and brought her down into a small, all concrete room. One with a pillow (surprisingly clean) in the corner. Ariadne was shoved to the ground and watched as Travis took a piece of chalk and drew a line a foot from the door. Within minutes his lackeys had brought in trays with molded bread crusts and splattered what looked like blood around near the chalk and around where she sat. Travis grabbed the pillow and threw it at her. "Listen." The Architect met his eyes. "We're bringing your Point Man in to visit." _Ahh so that's what the preparation is for. You want to make him think I've been beaten in a concrete cell this entire time. _"You will not speak to him. You will not look him in the eye. Understood?"

Silence.

"Understood?!"

Ariadne shrugged, the hard head taking over. Unfortunately her hard head was met with a loud smack across her cheek. "I'm giving you two options here Bourgeois. You can take the beatings obediently or admit to Arthur that you despise him. Just know that—should you decide to lie…the minute you say I hate you is the minute you say goodbye to Hera."

"So in actuality, you're only giving me one option."

"Do what you will." He shooed the rest of the company men out of the cell and stood at the door. "We'll be back in fifteen. Lay down and look pitiful, will you? Let's hope you redeem yourself."  
xxxxxx

For fifteen minutes she laid in the pitch black. Ariadne was nearly asleep when a sliver of light shined its way through. It was a warning that seconds later a bright white light would blast from the ceiling and challenge her eyes to adjust again. She looked up from her spot on the floor and met Travis' eyes. They reminded her of the task to come. Then a tall figure she recognized from anywhere was brought in behind him and a potato sack was ripped off of him. Ariadne's eyes immediately darted away. She heard his intake of breath, the scuff of his shoes as he made to get to her. Then she heard the man she hated most in the universe stop him, "Here are the rules for today: We're going to beat your little girlfriend to a pulp unless she agrees to declare her undying hate for you. See this chalk line? You will stand behind it. You will not have anyone holding you back. You will be free of your bonds on both your hands and your feet. And you will be free to cross that line and try to ease her pain any time you feel it necessary."

Arthur couldn't believe the sight of her. She didn't seem as injured as he thought she would be but she did look tired and bony. She laid in the middle of the cold hard concrete, clutching a pillow in only her jeans and a sports bra. He went ahead and took a step to cross the line when, "But I should warn you. Should you cross it, this gun—" One of the men behind Arthur stepped forward, crossed the line and stood beside Ariadne. He pulled back the hammer as he pointed the barrel to her, "Will send a bullet through her skull."

It was a clever way to inflict pain on both of his hostages in every way possible. He gave them choices without giving them choices at all. Arthur was forced to watch them hurt the Architect with every ability, every opportunity to do something about it but was still unable to take a step. They held him without chains. Ariadne could stop her own torture by lying, with three simple words that Arthur would understand, that Arthur wouldn't begrudge her for because he knew the truth…but should she open her mouth, her sister would suffer. They kept her mouth shut without a muzzle.

"What say you, Ariadne? Wanna skip all this? Anything you want to say to him?"

No way was she giving her sister up before the beating even started. She shook her head silently. "Get on your knees." He ordered. She complied. A swift punch to her face came before she had time to prepare herself and her head went flying backward, she lost her balance and fell on her back. Arthur started but caught himself. "Get back up." With a sniff, Ariadne did as she was told. Again, his fist collided with her and knocked her on her side. Arthur's fists clenched while she pushed herself back up to her knees without having to be told. Again, and she got up. Again, and she got up, blood trickling down her nose.

"Just tell them Ariadne. I know the truth, just say you hate me." Ah. _But you don't know. You don't know that the second I open my mouth, I'm killing my best friend, my older sister. I would rather take die by Travis' hands than lose Hera. _The Architect ignored him as she was previously ordered to.

Travis was beginning to lose patience. This wasn't affecting Arthur as severely as it should. The situation wasn't climaxing; his fear wasn't escalating. Without a word he shot his foot into her abdomen and knocked her breath out. Ariadne didn't have time to correct her breathing pattern. Travis rammed his foot into her side numerous times, eliciting coughs and gasps. It seemed to have the desired outcome. The Point Man was now pacing back and forth behind the line. He made sure Arthur was watching when he kicked her jaw. "Get up, Bitch."

"Don't talk to her like that." Arthur spat.

With a smirk, as Ariadne was struggling on all fours to right herself, The CEO kicked her hand from under her and let her face plant into the concrete. Arthur's foot moved; it scraped the line but retreated back several steps to avoid accidents. "You forget who gets to order who around here, Nolan." He turned his cocky gaze to The Architect, "Give me your arm." With slight hesitation, she lifted it and placed it in his hands. "I'm going to rip it out of socket and throw it around…unless you have something you'd like to share?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, "Ariadne just tell him what he wants to hear." She tuned him out. She had to.

She returned Travis' cocky gaze and made the motion of zipping and locking her lips, then throwing away the key. "Very well…" It was an effortless yank on his part. The sound of her bone popping was sickeningly loud and her yell was significantly louder. She hissed and groaned. Arthur turned to stand face into the corner, grasping his head, trying to drown her out. Travis tossed and caught her limp arm like a play toy while she whimpered and grunted. Arthur pounded his fist into the wall and then twisted around like a tornado. He was the monster he'd been in the alleyway behind their hotel in Sydney. "Leave her alone or I swear to God—"

"You'll what? You think you can take out eleven men before any of them can take out one girl?"

Finally—and thankfully—he dropped her arm which she clutched. Arthur looked on her with sympathy before hardening his eyes and glaring back at Travis. "Ariadne, I'll understand. Just lie to him, please."

The other man mocked in a baby voice. "Yes Ariadne, please?" Then his arrogant tone came back, "There really isn't a reason you're in this predicament. This is all Arthur's fault…you're being mistreated, your family is all at risk because of him. If it weren't for him, you'd be cozy at home in your apartment, drinking Starbucks and studying for school. Don't you hate him for causing this? For making you a target?"

"No. I hate—" Her voice dripped with ice—"_you._"

"What a woman." He winked at Arthur and then pushed her shoulders so that she collapsed to the ground and raised his foot. It came down with the force of a freight train on her stomach. Her body reacted by jolting upward and making a V—her stomach being the point. "UGHHHH" She ground out.

"Ariad—" Arthur took another step to cross but restrained himself and rubbed his face with his palms. "Ari, please, just open your mouth and tell him."

Travis grabbed a handful of her hair( she shrieked despite herself) and picked her up by it, "Yeah, _Ari, _open your mouth." He demanded, "Move your hair. Lean forward." Again Ariadne did as he said while he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket. The CEO's smile turned maniacal. He gently pressed the tip of the knife into a soft spot on Ariadne's back. Immediately her back arched and she cried out.

The Point Man's legs stretched out to cross but he reeled them back in, grasping at his hair. "Ariadne! SAY IT."

Travis repeated the action and the Architect all but screamed. She clamped her hand over mouth and dug her nails into her cheek. She wanted to lie, she wanted to give in so bad…Her eyes overflowed with tears. She heard Arthur plea, "Please, Ariadne."

His feet were fidgeting. Taking two steps to stand on the line, then two to stand right behind it, then on, then behind. Travis had made her turn around so he could show Arthur the artwork he'd begun. Apart from the already scabbed remnants of a whipping that were present, on each shoulder blade were their different initials. He'd already poked 'AB' into her left and was attempting to finish 'AN' on the other. The Architect writhed and arched and doubled over all while muffling her own yells. Another agonizingly slow poke to finish the 'N' and his masterpiece was complete. Teardrops of blood ran down her back, afraid of the place they were emerging from. "I've always loved to play Connect the Dots…" Travis chided. The razor sharp point ran down her punctures to make the first line of her 'A'. It only took her blood curdling scream for Arthur to lose it. Arms groped for his head, his own grunts sounded. Another line was connected, another high pitched scream, her raspy voice growling, her whimpers…He could take out these men, couldn't he? He could flip the one beside him on his back, kick the other one into the door, grab the gun out of their holster and aim it at the man with _the gun trained on Ariadne's head_. After he was taken care of, Arthur could kill Travis with his bare hands before he would even know what was happening…Travis chuckled and wiped _her_ _blood_ on his pants.  
The knife raised callously to connect the first line of her 'B.'  
Arthur flipped the man to his right.  
He kicked the man behind him.  
Both men were unarmed.  
So Arthur crossed the chalk line.

**The sound of the gunshot ricocheted through the cell.**

The Point Man's world stopped and his heart wrenched, _"NO!"  
xxxxxx_

Uh oh…Ari! :( Review if you want an update anytime soon!

For future reference. **Hera** is pronounced "Hair-a" and **Gany** is pronounced "Ganny."


	21. Stay Arthur

**Holy bejeezus readers, I am SO sorry. **Last week was unbelievably hectic and what free time I had, I was so lazy and my little case of writer's block did not help at ALL. But after finally checking my email and reading your words I was recharged and decided I'd better get to work on my own so I could update for you! So you can thank these people for the update today: _A Dark Dreamer, belle-amie57, Nina.4444, ariel1200s, Legal-Assassin-006, physhiephox, invisiblereader13, Miss Ariadne, cinematherapy, Ailecec, feelthefreedom, GarthFitzgerald, Guest, sweetpea42, Guest, myahoo, iamthewriter, timewyrm, Gemma, xoColetta, BubbleXGumXPink, Lani, _

**Chapter 21: Stay Arthur.**

The only sound Arthur could hear was the unsteady galloping of his pulse in his ears. His head started pounding—a result of the rise in blood pressure. Was the world losing its color and turning black and white? Ariadne was hunched over on the ground…lying motionless. _What had he done?_ What had happened to his self-control? The familiar weight of the dice in his pocket didn't help matters. The Point Man made a start to cradle her body but was mercilessly held by the barbarian that fired the weapon. Then there was black. And then red from the light shining through the eyelids he didn't notice had squeezed shut. _This can't be happening…_ oh but it was. In fact, Travis' guffaws and belly laughs only rubbed salt into the wound. Not until the laughing stopped and Arthur had heard—"Oh my God…" and heaves and choked sniveling.

His eyes opened and _THANK GOD; _Yes, she was lying on the ground but no, she was not in fact motionless. A trained eye could see the minute hiccup actions of her shoulders and the grip of her hand in her hair, there for protection. She hadn't been shot down-she had ducked. Travis pushed his words out in between breathless cackles, "I told you he would fire the gun-I never said it was loaded!" he continued, too amused to make sense of air, "Jesus Christ, you should've seen your face. And Ariadne! I've never seen someone move so fast in my life…"

"Go to hell." Ariadne cautiously sat up with her good arm and glared icily at him.

"—And she's back." He patted her head satisfactorily. "Let's give these kids some time to recoup, Connors…" Travis literally kicked the employees Arthur had injured into the hall and Connors had closed the door.

Now, Arthur's eyes had never left her body once he realized he hadn't lost her. He had to keep looking at the rise and fall of her breath, the flicker of her eyelashes, the red in her face, the blood trickling down her back and the grip of her hand on her arm to continually believe she was alright. In the split seconds between an exhale and an inhale, he panicked. _She stopped breathing. She wasn't ever breathing. I'm imagining this. _Ariadne followed the men with her eyes until she was sure the door had been fixed shut. She stared at the handle numbly. Not a thing looked like it was going through her head. She could've been reciting, _holy shit, I'm still alive _or just waiting for the moment the handle would twist and she would need to shield herself. Then Arthur's face was in her hair by her ear, his hand on the other side pressing the side of her head into the front of his, repeating his mantra, "You're alive. Thank God. You're alive. Oh, Thank God." Yet, all she could do was watch the door and wait for it—something, _anything_—to register. "Let me fix your arm. Which arm is it?" managed to slip through the haze. He must've figured out which arm it was because the aching pain of her bone being shoved back into socket is what finally propelled her out of her zone. Her voice was hoarse when she let out a cry.

"I'm sorry…" Arthur whispered and kissed her shoulder, "I know it hurt, I'm sorry."

Ariadne didn't know what she was shaking her head at. No, don't be sorry? No, stop talking? No, pain is the best feeling in the world because I know I'm still alive? Whatever it was, she kept shaking her head until her red, puffy eyes were filled to the brim again. Before they spilled, she laid her head on his knees. The Point Man's nimble fingers combed through her hair and petted the side of her face silently. He let whatever needed to sink in, have its time to do so. He let her own mind do the settling because his attempts to soothe with words not only further ingrained it in her mind but relived the two minutes and twelve seconds he thought she was dead in his.

After the breaths had slowed and she seemed to have accepted it, he spoke, "Why didn't you just lie?"

The Architect lifted her head up and sat opposite of him, then. Criss-cross applesauce. "I could've but they threatened my family if I chose to. I had my own chalk line to deal with."

He started nodding, his nostrils started to flare, "There's going to be a window of opportunity, Ariadne. When I find the loophole-and I swear I will—I'm going to decimate them all. I'll do to them what he's done to you—every last one."

"Don't."

"Why shouldn't I?"

She wrapped her hand on the back of his neck, "Because I don't want you to become him." Ariadne pulled herself to bury her head in the crook of his neck, "I don't want you to ever be that cruel or get pleasure from others' pain. I want you to _stay_ _Arthur_." And what she wanted-Arthur had found out—he couldn't resist giving to her. "They may all be the enemy but they're not _all _evil. Some of them could be like us: forced to do horrible things because of something or someone Cobol is dangling over their heads. Don't punish them for trying to save the people _they _care about. Maybe they have an Ariadne somewhere in here too."

In every rainstorm, she'd wait for the rainbow. Naïve though she could be, she was wise beyond her years. With every right to avenge herself, she stuck up for her assailants. Every stubborn bone was capable of begrudging but she instead harbored compassion. Sitting there as one big purple bruise, bleeding and scabbing and swelling, she gave Cobol the benefit of the doubt. She tried to find a sliver of goodness in some of them. It was that optimism, that big heart, that incredible soul bending forgiveness that Arthur loved about her. In every one of his dark clouds, she was the silver lining. She was the bright light at the end of his murky tunnel. How had he lived without her his entire life? "I love you."

Her furrowed eyebrows lifted, her lips parted and she leaned away a fraction. Arthur couldn't have expected her to see it coming. Even he hadn't. Shocked, she dropped his gaze and looked to the corner of the room. Then her eyes darted to the door behind him, then her lap. His eyes. Back to her lap. The side wall, the back wall. His eyes. Her lap. The door. His eyes. Her lap. All the while, her mouth opened and closed several times. The words she really wanted to say caught on the tip of her tongue and never made it off. These came rolled off instead: "You don't—These circumstances are really stressful and I get that you feel like we may not see each other again or something-time is limited—but you don't have to say something you don't mean, Arthur."

Arthur took her chin and lifted it to his to encourage her eyes to stay locked on his long enough, "I realize that love is a strong word to toss around and I realize that you may not feel that strongly towards me yet—and you may never get to that point—but it's how I feel and I needed it to be expressed."

"Are you su—"

"I don't expect you to say it back. I don't expect our relationship to be on your mind at this point and it shouldn't be. It should be on getting through this—doing what you need to do for yourself. Your only priority right now should be you, ok? You just so happen to be mine as well."

The door swung open. "Nolan."

He swallowed and looked her over again before turning to get up. A small hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly she was standing with him, "You're going to confess something like that and then leave without a kiss?"

"Thought I might've scared you off." He smirked.

"Not _that _much." They pressed their lips together hurriedly before his dawdling could infuriate Travis. Speaking of which, he told her to stay put (where else would she go, dumbass?) and that he'd be back for a field trip.  
xxxxxxx

Hours past. Water and bread was brought in on trays for all captives. Just as Ariadne's mind had quieted and she began to drift into blissful sleep, Travis let himself in. The darkness turned into garish light and Ariadne was ripped up to a sitting position. "Time to exercise your acting skills, Sweetie."

"What?"  
xxxxxx

Ganymede burst into Arthur's cell. "Get up."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm tied down."

The former slid Arthur's chair across the floor. The loud screeching sounds made his teeth hurt as they resonated through his ears. Ganymede positioned the chair so that The Point Man's head was near a speaker and then he punched in a code on the touch pad, flipped a green switch and talked into the wall, "We're live, sir."

There was a loud bang through the speakers and a distant, "What are you doing?" in a voice all too familiar.  
xxxxxx

Travis had pushed Ariadne against her table and the table had collided with the wall ungracefully. "Putting on a show for Arthur."

He pressed her against the table, so that her thighs were digging into its edge and nearly cutting off her circulation. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her face to his. "Like the sound of that, Ariadne?" He forced his mouth into a sloppy line of kisses from her ear to her collar bone.

"No." She clawed his face. To cradle his eye, he had to let go and she took the opportunity to push him away. "Get off of me!"

Xxxxxx

"What is he doing to her?" Arthur demanded an answer. A loud crash came through the speaker and he could hear Ariadne grunting and telling Travis to leave her alone. He heard the nauseating sound of a bed creaking.

"You don't like this?" He heard Travis screech and her heard Ariadne scream with, "No! Stop!"

"WHAT IS HE DOING TO HER?!" The veins in Arthur's neck were popping out, his face was turning red, he was sweating and gritting his words out, like a bear baring its teeth.

Xxxxxx

Travis pinned her down on her bed and pinched her side. He lowered his voice so only she could hear, "Scream."

Ariadne shook her head furiously. In reply, Travis dug his nails into her skin, "Scream." She chewed on her lip so hard that it started to bleed. Again she stubbornly refused and kept silent. The thin skin in between his fingers started to ache and would surely bruise. At last it was too much to take and Ariadne let out a throaty growl.

"Ariadne!" Came through her end of the speakers.

She couldn't respond. Travis had taken her shoulders and was pulling her up only to ram her back down again. Her head rebounded and bobbed every time her back collided with the mattress. It was killing her neck and knocking her breath out and all she could manage to get out were—

Xxxxxx

"Agh! Ugh! Ah. Sto—Ugh! Ghh! Oww!" Her stream of noises sent tingles through his spine.

Arthur tried to call out to her, to soothe her. "Ariadne! Ari, it'll be ok, I promise!" He was wrestling against his bonds, "Close your eyes, it'll be over soon. I'll kill him for this, I swear, I'll fucking kill him for this!"

"She can't

Xxxxxx

hear you." Ariadne vaguely hears her brother's voice tease on the other end of the speaker. That combined with Arthur's desperate voice made Ariadne long to answer him and let him know she could handle this. That Travis wasn't doing what he thought he was doing to her. The Architect knew what it sounded like…it sounded like Travis was raping her…which was the man's intention. He knew it would grind on Arthur's psyche, he knew what it would put him through to think he was listening to her being taken advantage of. Yet, he had no personal attraction to her or apparent need for gratification so he simulated it. She opened her mouth to do just that—tell Arthur this was fake- and Travis' hand clamped down on it. His smashed his mouth to her ear, "You answer him and the two of us will take a trip to visit Hera so you can watch me slit her throat."

The Architect glared daggers at him. "Now I could continue beating you to a pulp and take my anger out on your sister after or you could cooperate and make him suffer…"

Ariadne stopped slapping at him and kicking at him. "Scream," He insisted and stood to tower over her and removed his hand from her mouth.

With a dirty look, she opened her mouth and

Xxxxxx

"AGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Arthur bent over and tried to tune it all out. His eyes squeezed shut, he gritted his jaw and fisted his hands. There were clangs and bangs and booms and thuds. Travis' groans and moans and laughs and profanities.  
xxxxxx

Travis overturned her table. He picked up her chair and through it against the wall. Picked it up and threw it again. "Come on Ariadne!" He rasped into the speaker. He punched the mattress. He took a section of the newspaper out of his suit jacket and started whacking it against to the table to make a slapping sound.

Xxxxxx

Arthur was now jutting his back into the wall behind him repeatedly. He tried to beat himself up for not being in there. For not being able to break free and find her. His arms covered his head and he grunted, "Stop! Make it stop!"

xxxxxx

"STOP! TRAVIS! PLEASE," Ariadne was losing her voice. Arthur's pleas on the other side had her losing her composure. She'd never heard him beg like that. Shortly after, her groans turned into sobs. It was too much to take. She knew Arthur thought she was being thrown around and God knows what else. She could hear the agony and the worry in his voice each time he said her name, each time he promised she'd be ok and it was almost over, each time he pleaded with Ganymede and Travis to stop. Even though she knew nothing was happening to him-that he was just tied to a chair in the other room-…they were torturing him. She was being forced to help torture him. She had long ago burst into tears and couldn't quell them.

Travis left her alone so long as she made noise. Whether they were growls or grunts or begging Travis to stop this cruelty, whimpers, sobs, he didn't care…they all wounded the Point Man who listened. He kept up his task of throwing things around and making as much noise as possible. He wanted to test Arthur's limits. He wanted to see how much hurting her hurt him. He wanted to know how far it would push him so he could gauge what it took to break him. So far, it wouldn't take much. If he kept up with the routine of today—taking them to the concrete cell where he beat and poked her and then essentially tricking Arthur into the thought of him raping her—Arthur would be an even more pathetic, whipped version of Dominic Cobb by the end of the week. Weeping and begging Travis for mercy. And once Arthur's hope and confidence were broken, once Arthur was crushed by Ariadne and Travis felt satisfied, then he would send him to the tower. _Then_ he'd let one of his boys kill him.

Xxxxx

Now Arthur was cradling his head. He was rocking back and forth, his elbows on his knees. His voice was gruff, raspy, guttural. "Please. What do you want from me?!"

Ganymede wouldn't answer. He only snickered. Arthur looked up at him desperately, "What does he want? What does he want?! I'll do _anything_, just stop touching her, _please._"

The noise in the other room stopped.

Arthur panted. He was drained in every way he could be drained. His face was holding on to its angry mask but he was blinking back water.  
xxxxxx

Travis let the metal rod drop to the ground. He set her table upright, pushed the chair in, ceased movement for a good minute and then slowly stepped to the speaker. "The Great Arthur Nolan on his knees…never thought I'd hear you say 'please' to me but I like it. That's enough for today I suppose—I feel quite accomplished. Rejuvenated, even! Huh, Ariadne?"

"Wait." Arthur's voice weakly states through the speaker. "What do you _want_?"

"To hear you moved like that…agonized and traumatized and tormented like that every day of my life."

"Please, just leave her alone. Let her go and mince me into tiny pieces, set me on fire, put me on a stretcher and rip me limb from limb…"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Artie, old pal…we wouldn't get nearly the same reaction from you…" When Arthur held back a reply, Travis wrapped up with, "Goodnight _Sweetheart."_

"Arth—" Her angelic voice struggled to call to him before the line when static and Ganymede traipsed out of his cell.

Xxxxxx

Meanwhile on the other side of the world:

"Mr. Cobb?"

"Hello Saito."  
xxxxxx

And soo….Ariadne isn't dead…_yet._ Mwuahah. Don't you just wish Travis would make them some tea and biscuits and warm them by the fireplace instead of all this? Me too—**NEXT CHAPTER**: we're actually gonna get somewhere guys! We've had enough of the days and days of torture so I think its time our characters take some action and our story gets exciting or romantic or _something _again! Lets hope I don't get writers block/lazy again and that I update before the weekend is over…You know what can help with that?

_Reviews from my favorite people _:) let's get them out of those cells soon please?


	22. Broke Me

As always thank you to my muses and friends who review/alert/fave: _Miss Ariadne, PrincessLove123, Spirit Machine, origamifoxes, feelthefreedom, Gemma, Dryad Warrior Queen, Ice-wolf-elemental, Leagl-Assassin-006, physhiephox, belle-amie57, Lani, QuirkyJerky, KellyD.R, snapdragon17, BubbleXGumXPink, Guest, Andree H, Enbarr._

**Chapter 22: Broke Me **(lol, you guys said you felt sorry for Arthur _last _chapter…? That was nothing.)

It felt like midnight. Arthur had no way of calculating how late it gotten. It'd been hours since the spectacle with Travis and that was just after dinner. All in all, the cells felt sound and it didn't seem like anyone would come back in until the morning. Arthur was bound at the feet, his torso bound to the back of the chair and his hands bound in front of him. When they'd changed out his bonds after dinner, he had to hold back a wry smile. Putting his hands in front of him gave him more freedom than he was sure they wanted him to have. He had scooted his chair by the bed so that he could lay his head back on the mattress and had since been working on his rope. Arthur cleverly took his belt off and used the part that went through the notches to saw away. Now, he scooted his chair to the area it'd been during the earlier scenario. He stood as best he could and lifted his hands to the touchpad. Using a technique that his friend Cobb had taught him, Arthur let out a hot breath over the keys. The moisture from one's breath would stick to the fingerprints previously left on the keys and would simulate the person retouching them. Once the green light came on, Arthur pulled down the switch and then held the button.

"Ariadne?"

Xxxxxx

She had fallen asleep sitting up. Ariadne was sitting on her bed, her back pressed against the wall and her knees tucked into her chest. She'd fallen asleep with her head down after Ganymede had come to "visit" her. The change in her brother was so profound that he seemed like a completely different person. The boy who taught her how to play soccer, used his chore allowance to buy her new markers, made forts behind their couch, came to every art show and ruffled her hair every night before bed…he was gone. He'd been replaced by someone who hit her and spat on her. She'd fallen asleep trying to remember all the times he'd been anything but cruel to her.

"Ariadne?" The first call pulled her out of her slumber but barely…Just enough to open her eyes, lift her head and squint in the darkness. "Ari, are you there?" Arthur's voice. She was wide awake. Ariadne hopped up and stood in front of the door, waiting for him to come in. Her eyes peered at the crack below the door and looked for shadows of feet to display themselves through the light. She touched the door handle briefly and held her ear to the metal, to listen for his voice again. It did come but from somewhere else. "Ariadne?" She could hear soft pats of breath amplified in her room and realized his voice was coming through the speaker. She flicked down her own switch and pressed the button in as well.  
xxxxxx

"Hey Arthur."

He let out a breath of relief. "Are you ok?"

"Yes."

"Do you need medical attention?"

"No."

"How serious is it? Try not to fall asleep, you might have a concussion and-"

"Arthur…" He knew that tone. The don't worry about me, stop asking me questions it only scares me tone. At least he knew she wasn't in critical condition. She could very obviously talk and maneuver herself around. So…no brain damage, no broken legs…she needed a finger to press the button so at the worst only one broken arm, she didn't sound in too much pain, she sounded like she could breathe fine, she was getting on to him and that was always a good sign. Her voice was firm, she sounded as emotionally stable as she should be in this mess. Better than he expected for a rape victim… As long as she was functional, he felt better. He had imagined her crippled and bloodied, sobbing on the floor. With a better image of her in his head-one he could try to bear-he decided he would leave her alone. He had only needed to hear her voice. He silenced and sat back down. A minute passed.

"What about you?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment then shakily stood and answered, "I'm in no worse physical condition that I was when I arrived."  
xxxxxx

"That's good." It came as a relief to Ariadne that he'd been virtually untouched. She could handle this if it was only herself taking the fall. She would take all of Eames, Hera, Gany and Arthur's beatings if it meant keeping them alive or getting them out of there.

His laugh was dry and devoid of humor, "But mentally, I'm a wreck."

Ariadne's voice became high pitched and rushed, "Oh God, Have they been putting you under?"

She could hear him swallow before he spoke, "No. I mean emotions are getting the better of me."

The Architect sighed…she already knew that. She'd heard it earlier. She dropped her voice down and it became softer and comforting. Like her words themselves would enter his room through the speaker, shape shift into her form and envelop him in her warmth, "We'll be fine. This will all be over before you know it." She thought her gentle coaxing would settle his thoughts but his voice came back flying, upset, frazzled. "You don't know that. You don't know that until we're standing outside of this building…I'm—I'm terrified."

Again, trying to keep the mood light, she joked, "Mr. Point Man? _You're _terrified?"

"For you." His voice was silk.  
xxxxxx

"You shouldn—"

"Of losing you." He interrupted. He was laying his thoughts and his feelings out there; he was so preoccupied with that that he didn't listen to her when she tried to tell him otherwise. He needed to get all of it out. No matter what she said in between he needed to keep going, never stop, say everything he needed to in case it was his last chance.

"You're not going to, Arthur. Stop worrying about _me. _I'm not the one they were really after…they want to break _you _remember?"

"You still don't realize how much you mean to me. The effect you have. How crushed I would be if my attachment ended up killing you. If they took it that far."

He was probably scaring her. Her voice was adamant but he could detect the hint of shakiness pooling in, "They won't. I know for a fact—they won't."

"They want to crush me…Losing you would do it; it'd make me inconsolable." He tried to make her see what he was talking about. Why he had reason to be so shaken up.

"Stop."

He did. Arthur took a deep breath, composed himself and then apologized, "I'm sorry." Arthur laid his head on the cool concrete wall, "I feel like I could handle this so much better if I could see you."  
xxxxxx

Ariadne laid her head on the white drywall and ran her fingers along the speaker, "Me too. Even if I have to be beat to do it."

"Do you think the code for the speaker is for that alone? Or is it a floor code? Or employee code?"

Confused, Ariadne lifted her head up and examined the keypad she'd taken no notice of…"Probably employee…I know it changes every time they come in."

She hears Arthur's steps echo in his room. She hears brief beeps and a hissing sound. "Where are you?"

"I don't-The hostage level...?"

"I'm coming to get you."

Xxxxxx

Arthur slid down hallways and crept through corridors until he found his way to what he believed to be the Hostage floor, several floors up from his cellar. He started down the hallway…the first initial of a last name and an identity number were posted on the steel door of every privy room. P161 on one, Z849 on another, R553 on another and finally a 'B.' B740. Anxiously, he typed in 02426. The door hissed and clicked as it always did and he pushed it open only to find a pitiful looking female asleep in her bed. His nerves melted away and he drew closer to the figure. Afraid it was the architect and didn't want to startle her, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and touched her wrist, "Ariadne?"

The eyes opened with great effort and even then could only keep them slivered. The dark brown orbs would have been beautiful had the sockets not been rimmed with red and sunken in. In the single stream of light that shone through the room, The Point Man could determine the hollowness of the cheeks and the chapped nature of the lips. "Who are you?" A raspy voice came from the form, weakly. A voice one would never match to the girl.

"My name is Arthur."

The woman gasped. It proved a feat for her and she took a couple quick breaths afterwards to compensate. "_You're _Arthur. She has good taste."

Arthur was perplexed and he took her statement as her being out of sorts. He politely excused himself from the room and continued his search for the Architect. Is that what Ariadne's fate in this place was? Weeks down the road, would they continue to use her against him? Would they reduce her to that state of being? Then he reminded himself that no they wouldn't have that opportunity. He was getting her out of here tonight. Consumed in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the footsteps coming around the corner until they were in the hallway with him. He turned just enough to see the flicker of a flashlight come on. In a panic, his eyes flitted around for a 'B.' Luckily, B657 was across the hallway and four doors down. Arthur rushed while the flashlight made sweeping motions behind him. He frantically typed the code, heard the hiss and the click and-

"Hey, who's there?"

Apparently the other man had heard it too. Arthur threw himself in the room and closed the door. There were footsteps getting louder and louder, quickening their pace. Upon seeing Arthur, Ariadne jumped from her spot on her bed to approach him but he hastily stopped her, "Act normal." He slithered behind her bathroom door as another hiss and click made themselves heard.

The door swung open to Ariadne sitting on her bed picking at the scratchy, woolen, used sheet. "You up to trouble in here, Bourgeois?" With her silence, his eyes swept the room, gave her a suspicious look and exited.

She tried to ignore the thoughts swirling in her head and remain seated. When Arthur deemed it safe to show himself then she could move. He waited ten minutes before he emerged. They locked eyes and the room was infected with joy. Simultaneously, they're smiles swelled at the sight of the other and Ariadne sprung to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her head in his chest. She inhaled his scent. She hoped that if she took deep enough breaths, the smell of him would be trapped inside her. After he returned her embrace, he pecked her happily and led her to the door, "Come on, we're leaving."

He punched in the correct keys but the door didn't accept it. Arthur carefully retyped it. No access. He tried a third time and a fourth. "Shit! It must be an employee code. The last person to check all the rooms was Travis so its why ours were the same. Unless we can figure out the employee who just entered, we're stuck."

"Oh no…" Ariadne breathed, "Arthur, they're going to be livid!"

Arthur let his fist pound the steel and grunted in a moment of frustration. To calm himself, he closed his eyes and let the cool, composed, capable Point Man persona back into his being. He focused on the positive and turned to see how Ariadne was fairing. She was again perched on her bed, her elbows rested on her knees, and her head hid itself in her hands. Gracefully, he floated across the room to her and wedged his body between her knees as he lifted her head up, "Hey…what are we upset for? We're together."

"They're going to rip you to shreds when they find you in here. This is _bad._"

"No." Arthur brought his lips down on hers lightly and frothily, "This is _wonderful._" He placed another, deeper and fuller, "You're right in front of me", he said without ever leaving her mouth, "I can breathe again," and then pressed down with more fervor while he brought her hands to wrap around his neck. Arthur then snaked his arms around her waist and picked her up. Ariadne wrapped her legs around him and they just smiled at each other, their foreheads touching. "Arthur?"

"Mmm?" He stood perfectly still, afraid that a movement would alter the moment.

"I care about you a lot."

He nodded, "Me too." And left a kiss on her forehead.

"No, you don-" she nervously laughed, "I mean—I…"

"What?" He chuckled at her stutters before his eyes gravitated towards her lips and he felt the inhuman pull to kiss them again. This time he deepened it and pulled away agonizingly slowly. The fireworks in Ariadne's stomach and the tingles from her toes to her head made her thoughts undeniable and she had to voice them. Their lips finally separated, one millimeter at a time and she could feel his hot breath ghost over her. "Love…"

His eyes shot open and met hers skeptically. Bravely, Ariadne continued, "What you said earlier? I was in shock but…I… I love you back."

They were so close, she saw the moment his pupils dilated and then shrunk again, she saw his entire visage soften and his eyebrows push together and up but they weren't furrowing, they weren't mad. She didn't know if it was her imagination but she felt his body melt into her, and he radiated something. There was something shooting out of his chest and calling to her. His breath quickened its pace. He brushed his fingers across her back so delicately and then whispered in a voice she'd never heard from him. One that was unsure, vulnerable…"Ari…do you mean that?"

At that point, Ariadne was so far gone into the sensation of Arthur being so open and affectionate, she was speechless. Nearly rendered thoughtless. She nodded weakly and saw a relieved upturn of his lips before they crashed into her own and their bodies collided in a sea of feelings.

Xxxxxx

"Mr. Arthur is a very tedious man. Very protective. He may be refraining from contacting you for his own safety."

Cobb nodded, he had thought about that already. But he and Arthur had been partners, best friends, brothers for years and even continents away they were in tune. Dom had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's possible. But if he, Eames and Ariadne were safe themselves, then my safety shouldn't be a concern either. I have a very bad feeling about this, Sir. The men chasing Ariadne were from Cobol."

"I know. She contacted me a month or so ago for assistance. Unfortunately, their CEO has something personal against Mr. Arthur and she was too valuable to him to make a deal. I could not square away her problems but I did help hide her within my company as best I could."

Cobb was on his laptop, with several windows open trying to pull things he'd learned from watching Arthur and trying to be the Point Man…he didn't have the knowledge, the speed or the correct tools and software to hack into the major corporation's files. "Is there any way your men could look into Cobol's files? If Arthur and Ariadne have been taken off the wanted list, they must be in their possession."

"I'll get them on it as soon as I hang up. As for you, Mr. Cobb, you have an hour to pack up your family. I've booked you a flight to Japan and will have two teams assembled for your arrival. One to guard your family's wellbeing in case you're threatened and one to help us formulate a plan."

"Thank you, Saito."

"See you by morning, Mr. Cobb."  
xxxxxx

**Next Morning.**

Ariadne had re-clothed and was sitting on her bed nervously awaiting the first check of the day. They should've been aware of Arthur's absence by now. Cobol would be incensed when they came to her. The Point Man sat behind her with his legs on either side. His forehead was dug into her shoulder and one hand rubbed her lower back assuredly with the other held on to hers for dear life. When they heard the hiss and the click of the door, Ariadne's head shot up and they separated. Arthur went to hide away in her bathroom until they hopefully left her alone and went away. If they didn't leave her alone and thought themselves fit to start hurting her, Arthur would be there to make them wish they'd never laid their eyes on her. Travis and his men barged into her room, nearly pushing her over. "Where is he?!"

"Please Travis, he wasn't—"

He flipped her mattress over onto the floor like Arthur would be underneath it, "He's not in his cell and there is no chance in hell he wouldn't come for you. You think I don't know he's in here?!

She swallowed and hoped her honesty would spare them an extra punishment, "He's in the bathroom."

"I think it's time you tell them what's going on here." He snapped his fingers, "Someone get the rotund Forger."

Quickly, she got up from her seat on her bed and looked to her bathroom door, panicking, "Are you crazy? You agreed they'd never know." Ariadne harshly whispered back to him.

"And you agreed to _cooperate_ for your sister's life. So we've both overlooked our promises…but I get to punish you for yours."

She retaliated, "You've been beating me. That's not punishment?"

"I gave you the choice when you turned yourself in and you said you'd rather be treated like your friends."

"Ganymede? Turning my brother? That's not punishment?!" She raised her voice.

"You ran away."

"_I came back_!"

After hearing all the commotion Arthur emerged from her bathroom, putting his shirt on. His eyes widened upon the sight and he pulled Ariadne behind him. He eyed Travis and his men while he kept his arm around Ariadne protectively.

"And you're not dead. Your welcome."

Just then her brother entered, pulling the Forger along with him. "Tell them." Travis demanded.

Eames looked at her, bewildered, "Ariadne?"

"Tell your dear friends Arthur and Eames, _what you've done._" Her brother sneered.

She stared, "Ganymede!"

"You know him?" Arthur turned around.

Ariadne stuttered, "He-He's my brother."

"Your what?" The Point Man turned back to look the boy and all at once recognized the Bourgeois traits they both shared. The fair skin, dark hair, the same eyes.

Travis pulled her from behind Arthur roughly by her arm, "Think of Hera…" he warned.

"Ariadne, what's going on?" Arthur pleaded for an explanation.

Travis snapped his fingers at Ganymede and her brother twisted Eames wrist to produce a loud yell. He then towered over Ariadne, "Tell them or I will." Arthur leaned in to process their conversation. Travis continued, "Or have you fallen too in love with our mark to remember our priorities?"

The puzzle pieces eerily fit together in front of Arthur, "Mark?"

She gave Travis an upset look and heard Arthur yell into her ear, "You work for them?!"

Ariadne turned her back on Travis and addressed the Point Man, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so, so, sorry. I swear I didn't know when I agreed. I-"

He shook his head and stepped away, "You've been baiting me….You were a trap the whole time…"

"No, I tried to tell you-"

"How long have you been doing this to me?"

"Arthur, please—" She touched his shoulder.

He threw it off, "How long?!"

"Right after the Mankens job." She closed her eyes, "I didn't have a choice."

He laughed pitifully at himself, "So everything was just part of the job. I bet you got a real kick out of me making a fool of myself for you last night."

Her eyes began to water, "No…that was _real_. Arthur, I wanted it as much as you did. None of that was a lie…" She tried to reassure him.

"Wa-wa-wa-wait. 'Last night?' Don't tell me you," he pointed at her, "And him…" he pointed at Arthur and then burst into laughter, "That is _great_. I knew he'd go to you after he escaped and I figured you'd have a little bonding time but… Boys! We have a little overachiever on our hands." He smiled viciously at Ariadne and pinched her cheek.

Arthur huffed. He was humiliated.  
xxxxxx

_Her big doe brown eyes peeked out from the covers and smiled at him as he traced the outlines of her face. When he reached her lips, she applied pressure to kiss his index finger. "I've wanted that for a long time." He confessed._

_She gave him a coy smile, "How long?"_

"_Mm—since you first called Cobb out on his bullshit and stormed off." He stated it like a well-known fact and continued to trace her jaw, her cheekbones, her ear._

_She lifted her eyebrows and teased, "Long time."_

_He chuckled, then scooted closer, "I shouldn't have waited until we were locked away as hostages somewhere. I should've been making love to you every night we were on the run."_

"_Especially in the penguins exhibit," She joked. _

"_In the middle of the wedding reception," He joined in with her humor. _

"_In my Winnie the Pooh footie."_

_The stars in their eyes were soft, their smiles uncontrollable. Everything but the two of them had faded away. There was no Cobol, no hostages, no threat, just them. He brought the hand that wasn't resting under her head to his lips and kissed it. Each finger, her palm, "Ariadne, I'm falling in love with you."_

"_Good," She rolled to peck his lips, "Because I'm falling in love with you too." _

_He nuzzled her nose with his, "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise. If it means my life, I swe—"_

_She rolled away from him and faced the ceiling, breaking all contact, "Stop."_

"_Ari, you already know I would give up my life for you," he tried to ease her. He needed her eyes on him again, her breath mingling with his, her warmth and her caress. _

_The Architect just moved her head to look at him, "And you know I'd give up mine for you."_

_His face was adamant and dark, "No." _

"_See? I don't want to hear those things from you anymore than you want to hear them from me. It's already bad enough tha-" She stopped. Her eyes turned to steel, blinking profusely. She swallowed, and rolled all the way over. Her porcelain back scabbed with their initials and rustled curls the only thing he could see. He scooted to put his arm around her, hug her to him, the feel of her bare back on his bare chest was soothing. He kissed the healing puncture wounds amorously. It only made her heart bleed worse, "We're never going to be like this again." Her muffled voice exclaims. _

"_Ari…" He whispers into her neck._

"_They're going to find out you're not in your room sooner or later. They're going to find you in here and they're going to make us pay for it. A thousand times over to hell and back."_

"_I'm sure they'll be pissed but—"_

"_No, Arthur. This is all setting up to something really bad. What if this is the last straw?"_

"_Ariadne…" he rubbed her arm and tried not to let her point ruin this moment._

"_They're going to take you away in the morning and do God knows what. What if this is the last time I see you?"_

"_It's not." He kissed her shoulder. _

_Arthur hears her voice crack, "It hurts to be a centimeter away from you." At that, he pressed into her even closer, wanting to be like one person. A hair's breadth not close enough… "How bad is it going to hurt if they-?" _

"_I'm right here. Don't put distance between us until you have to."_

_Ariadne turned her head to look at him over her shoulder as he rested his chin on it, "Arthur, about me and Cobol—"  
"No more. We're together right now and nothing else matters to me." He turned her around to face him again and she nestled into him, "I don't want to think about anything else." Being in his arms felt so good it hurt; like a piece of shattered glass slicing her all over. Her face was melancholy but she kissed him to show him he was right. As he deepened their kiss, he rolled on top of her and she pulled the covers over their heads again.  
xxxxxx_

She grabbed his hands and tried to intertwine them, "I meant every word."

He pulled away, "And why should I believe you? You've lied to me for _months_."

Ariadne whipped over her shoulder for help, "Eames?"

The Forger shook his head in disappointment, "You don't expect me to know what to say either, do you? You've lied and betrayed me as you have Arthur."

Her eyes left him and met Arthur's again, pleading, begging him to believe her. His were filled with questions, hurt, an anger she'd never seen. "Who are you?" His guarded tone questioned. How do you handle something like that? The person you're so enamored with that you can't see straight, the person you want, need and trust more than anything, the person who has stolen your soul and taught it how to fly, the only person who could ever make you _feel, _the only person you are capable of happiness with was the enemy. Everything you'd shared, every look that made your spine tingle, every smile that crushed your lungs, every brush of skin and ghost of a kiss were pretend. Every breathy 'I love you' were lines in a script. Their job. Their purpose. That person, that once so wonderful person took you and made an idiot of you, a blubbering lovesick idiot from the independent, sharp, Casanova you had been. Her name alone—said, written, thought of-had made his heart beat faster. The thought, the possibility of her eyes on him turned him inside out. Arthur had given everything to her and intended to give more, to give and give and give until he could no more and then beg, cheat, lie and steal so he could give even still. Cobol hadn't needed to chase her and beat her and turn her against him like this to break him…no, she had already done that. With the bat of an eyelash and a flash of teeth, with her sarcastic words and stubborn storm off. The moment she stepped foot into that warehouse it was only a matter of time. And so, Travis had done it. Arthur cursed himself for letting it happen, for falling for her no matter how sweet it had been because now he was utterly and despairingly broken in half. Half of a whole that she only pretended to complete.

Ariadne hears her brother throw Eames into the wall and come push his face against Arthur's ear as someone restrains him. "She tell you it hurt be away from you? She'd die for you?" Arthur's jaw ground and he looked away from her—she sees the water and hates the cause, herself- as Ganymede chortled, "Yeah. She gets that passion from our dead dumbass of a father."

The Architect pushed the older man off of Arthur and scolded, "Ganymede!" Overwhelmed by her emotions, (guilt, anger, hurt. Cobol had turned her into a temptress, a liar, and a double agent in Arthur and Eames' eyes and her older brother was forever gone because of their cruelty) Ariadne lunged at Travis and started punching at him. Two of his men held her back without trouble. Travis smiled while she shot him daggers with her eyes, she wouldn't stop her attempts to kick at him. "Welcome back to the family, Ariadne. But what to do for fun, now?"

While he pondered, Travis turned to the slumped man on the ground, "What about you Eames? Any ideas?" Eames couldn't speak through his own pain. The two men holding him back were repeatedly kicking him in the stomach. Travis just laughed and then with an epiphany he faced the Architect again. "Who would you rather we upgrade to the execution wing, baby? Poopsie or Toothpick?"

Her wriggling halted and her face scrunched, "Don't make me choose."

"Oh for God's sake." Arthur yelled, "Take me! Just do it. This is what you wanted Travis just get it over with! I'm done for, you win. She's slaughtered me and I'm ready to for it all to end."

Ariadne's eyes widened and she snapped her neck around in surprise, "Arthur, no."

He didn't meet her eyes; he coolly gazed forward at the CEO of Cobol, "Nothing could be worse than having to spend another second with her."

Her arms dove around his waist and she looked up into him, "Please, I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. You have to _know_ that, Arthur. I wouldn't dream of it- but I didn't have a choice."

She knew it was hesitant and full of regret but he met her eyes and she welcomed them. "There is always a choice."

Ariadne pulled on the back of his neck and chased his face with hers. She tried to place her nose by his, "I know it's hard to believe but I'm still me. I'm still Ari, I'm still that Architect and your Sweetheart and the pain in the ass that kept sneaking into the hallway every night…You have to believe me. Please believe me, Arthur…I love you, I do. Don't give in to them like this—not because of me-"

He took a deep breath and ripped his head away from hers and out of her grip, "I'm afraid that's not a possibility anymore."

The group of men shared a pompous and victorious smile. Ganymede, roughly twisted Arthur's hands behind his back and elbowed him in the spine for fun before he tried to push him out the door. Relentlessly, Ariadne moved to block the doorway, arms pushing with all their strength, fingernails gripping the doorframe—Again, his gaze penetrated her to her core. "Fight him back." She whispered. With a huff, Travis let his men wait for the two to exchange last whatevers.

"What for? He's not my torturer, you are…nothing they do will compare to what you've done to me. They have nothing to do with this. _You _broke me."

One of the men pushed her aside and the troupe pulled Arthur out of sight. Travis threw her back in her room and left her to tend to Eames, heaving on the floor.  
xxxxxx

Welp…review, maybe? Our poor bb's…


	23. Make It Up To You

Okie, hello again. We've got a hella long chapter ahead of us so lemme thank people right quick: _Guest, PrincessLove123, origamifoxes, feelthefreedom, Lani, Dryad Warrior Queen, Legal-Assassin-006, physhiephox, Guest, InBlue85, Avalon West, Andree H, Fanpire102, snapdragon17, Miss Ariadne, KellyD.R, penitentiary bound (Gemma), Nina.4444_

**Chapter 23: Make It Up To You (also entitled the longest effing chapter I've ever written. Hello 7000 words…or Chapter 23: the chapter in which five million things happen, wtf.)**

When they were left alone, Ariadne rushed to Eames side like he had so many weeks before when they'd found her in the alleyway. She put his arm around her shoulder and tried to help him to a seat as best she could. She attributed his cooperation to his injuries. Eames rubbed his arm and popped his wrist back into place. It took several minutes for him to get his bearings. The Architect had gotten wet paper towels from her bathroom and wiped the few scratches on his face. "I'm sorry, Eames." The forger stood without acknowledging her and crawled under her bed. When he emerged again, he held a hearing bug in his hand. He plucked the wire to disable it and then addressed her. She looked on the verge of crying again and he was going to have none of it, "Pull your shit together, Ariadne and tell me what is going on. How did you get involved in all this?"

"You believe me?"

"I'm a forger. I'm trained to analyze people so well that I know them better than they know themselves. Working for Cobol isn't you. And a lot of your behavior during the past weeks is starting to make sense…So spill it, Tiny."

She took a slow, generous intake of breath and then prepared to let everything off of her chest, "After the Mankens job…I came home from school one day and they were waiting in front of my flat. They told me they were ReGenisis Industries. They had badges and paperwork and a website, everything. They offered me a job with complete creative freedom, a relaxed schedule, I didn't have to go under, it paid well and my team was wonderful. So when they came to me again and said they had a job for me, I took it without a second thought. And they waited until after I signed the contract and met the CEO _and_ gave them my contact information to fly me to their headquarters. And when we landed I was at Cobol, not ReGenisis, there's no such thing. They told me that I had signed on to be a mole. That on my next job with Arthur, I would have to send in intel."

"And you…?"

"Refused. Or tried to. They'd already found my sister."

Eames put it together, "The Hera girl."

"Yeah. She has cancer, Eames. They made me trade intel for her treatments."

"Are you shitting m—"

"I only gave them enough to suffice." She defended, "I bullshitted half of it, I swear."

"Well where does the shooting come in?" He scratched his chin.

Ariadne rubbed her face with her hands, "Arthur came to visit. He needed help on a job and we—I just couldn't do it anymore. So I threw the company phone away. I tried to cut them off and drop off their radar and they came for me."

"And you ran to keep them distracted. And you tried to hide from Arthur so you wouldn't lead them to him. That's why you didn't want us to find you."

"But you did. And he wouldn't leave me or let me out of sight. That night I got drunk and slit my arm, I was fishing for a tracking chip. They had called and threatened you two…"

Eames' face lightened. Everything made sense. She continued, "When I was with you I wasn't _on_ the job, I was running_ from_ it. I didn't understand at first—but Cobol knew, before Arthur and me and I understand why they went through all that trouble to trick me and enlist me.—I thought that if they needed me that bad, they would want to find me first—they would need to. So if we kept running they would be distracted by me and hold off on Arthur. And then they found out we were together—and I couldn't lead them to him anymore. So I left and turned myself in. I thought—or hoped—that after the fight we had it would be easier to break away from each other. That maybe he would respect my wishes for once and leave me alone. Not come after me….and I should've known better."

"This is a hot mess you've weaved here."

She rubbed her forehead and sat opposite him on her overturned mattress, "Arthur knew Cobol was after him, they have been since before Inception. He knew _they_ were after me, he knew where I went. He should've known that coming after me would put him in their clutches—he turned himself in too. He should've stayed away!"

Eames eyes widened and he came to the Point Man's defense, "Well it's not like you gave him a choice…The woman he loved practically signed her death certificate. You would've followed. Don't you think it would've been a hell of a lot easier had you told us this at the beginning?! If you had maybe warned Arthur of your entrapment in the Company?!"

"I tried to tell him! I almost did so many times but—"

"But what?!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW HOW!" She was so used to crying by now that she took no note of the water welling in her eyes, "I was scared to death how he would react! What Cobol would do if they found out!"

"So what if they found out? You were with us, we would've protected you, we would've helped you find a way out!"

Ariadne stood from her bed, "There was no way out! There _is _no way out! My sister is _dying, _I've been shown pictures of my Grandmother beaten to death on her living room floor, they've taken Ganymede and incepted him. They've turned my big brother into someone who comes into my cell and helps Travis beat me! And every day they promise to find and change and kill the only people I care about! They've threatened me with Professor Miles' life, they already ran over my old roommate and I had to get her to a hospital with a bullet in my stomach, they're watching Cobb and Phillipa and James…I've seen videos of them at home…that's what I was dealing with. If they found out, what would they do to all those people?! You know the guilt I had? Every day I was on the run I was choosing you and Arthur over my family, over Miles, over the kids…Every day the list kept growing because I couldn't lose _him_."

Eames finally stood and brought Ariadne into his arms while she grunted, "No matter what I did-what I do-I'm hurting someone. I'm losing everyone…I didn't know what to do—I was trying to protect so many people at once and I wasn't thinking—I didn't—I should've—Eames, I'm so sorry-"

He shushed, "Calm down…calm down…" and patted her back. Sadly he added, "Arthur would've completely understood, had you only told him what you just told me at the start."

The Architect pushed away from him and angrily paced the room, "But I didn't." She bit and her arms raised to cover her head as she traveled the room over, "I was arrogant and stubborn. I thought I could handle it by myself, I thought I could freaking fix it without involving anyone further, without anyone finding out and—I was so stupid!" She turned and yelled at Eames before throwing her back into the wall behind her.

"You should've asked for help, yes, but—"

"I've killed them! They're all going to die because of me, Eames!" Another bang into the wall. "I deserve every fucking mark on my body!" She rammed herself into the wall over and over before Eames pulled her away and held her still.

"Stop. Stop. Ariadne!"

She stilled and he took the opportunity to sit her down on her mattress, still holding her. "_Everything _hurts. I just want to make it right—I want Travis to come in here and pummel me again. Make me suffer."

"No you don't."

"I feel like I'll only make it up to everyone—to Arthur-once I see my blood everywhere."

"You stop. You made some dumb decisions, kept some secrets you shouldn't have but what's done is done. What's happened has happened. And either you can brood and wish you were dead or you and I can figure out how to get us all out of here." He looked down at his arms and feet. In their rush and sheer excitement over Arthur's heartbreak, the Cobol men hadn't retied his bonds. He smirked dashingly, "Ariadne, how would you like to be the hero again? Let's get out of this cell."

She looked around the room. Just white walls. One small vent, but the grating was locked. No windows…"Where would we start?"

He rubbed his scruff and stood up to begin pacing"…the building they took you to…was it their main branch?"

"Yes."

"Their main branch is in San Francisco. You've been here before."

"…and when they recruited me, they gave me a tour…" Her grin grew the size of the empire state building, "They're screwed." She ran into the bathroom and pulled out several paper towels. She ripped and tore and placed and ripped some more and maneuvered them, crumpled some. Eames thought she had either had a nervous breakdown or was having a seizure of Einstein nature. When she finished the towels were torn into sections. Some smaller and longer to look like hallways, larger squares were rooms, folded strips were stairs.

"Bloody hell" Eames breathed, completely befuddled by her genius, "Are you human?"

"I know for a fact we're on the same floor as my sister. We're in level 3H." She points to one of the squares, "For hostages. They give them privy rooms because-well hostages have to be in ok shape…if they're almost dead, they're no good. They've taken Arthur to the top floor," She gets on her knees and points to the geometric shapes she's strategically placed on her table. "That's where they do all of the executions…moles, employees they're not happy with, people they want revenge on. That's level 13." She took a loose nail from the wall and ran her finger down the table leg, striking lines on it to resemble floors. "There's at least 10 good floors of cubicles, offices, training rooms and the like in between us and Arthur. Any ideas?"

Eames looks everything over again. "Who all do we need to be careful of?"

Sarcastically, her eyebrow rose, "Besides…everyone?"

"Besides his robots. Who are the big wigs I need to distract while you get in there?"

"Travis, Connors, Barcena, The guy with the handlebar mustache…"

Eames nodded his head. He kept his eyes downcast, notably whipping up a plan. He looked up with an afterthought, "Your brother?"

Ariadne swallowed and picked at the table leg with her nail again, to keep from getting too worked up, "I'll deal with him…He's most likely the one they'll send to Arthur."

Eames looked down to his wrist to see no watch there and he groaned. It was taking too long. The longer they sat here, the closer it was to Arthur's demise. The sooner someone would come in to retrieve him and see the plans they'd constructed. (Well, they would have to understand what all the paper towels meant first.) "How about this: I'll deal with distractions, I'll create enough chaos for you to blend with, and I'll handle all the big guys. You find your sister, find Arthur and figure out a way to get them out of here. We'll pick somewhere to meet afterward—"

"Use the stairwell on the far right of the building. None of them use it, it's so deliveries and mail and people can be sent in without anyone at the front desk or the lobby seeing. Take the right side down the entire way until the last two floors, then stay on the left side and follow the tunnel through. It leads to the alley, three buildings down."

"Perfect. So what do you say we find a way out of here and wing it?"

They both scrutinize the room with their eyes. Picking the molding and the ceiling and the door apart to see any possible out. Eames questions her if the code lock on the door is a password, a floor code or an employee code and it triggers her memory on Arthur's trick last night. The last one in was Travis, who'd been in last night and used the speaker. On a whim, Ariadne jumps up and used a trick Cobb had taught her. She pants a hot breath onto the keypad by the speaker. The moisture sticks to the keys previously pressed and they appear on the screen. "Try 02252."

. .Beep—Hissssssssssss—Click.

"Hello Cobol…" Eames smiled.  
xxxxxx

02252. Whichever employee's code they were using, he would be in huge trouble soon. The door to Hera's room unlocked with the familiar hiss and click and Ariadne ran to her side. Tentatively, she jostled the figure's shoulder to wake her up. "Hera," she whispered.

The withered eyes pried themselves open and Hera did her best to present her sister with a smile, "Ariadne."

"Come on. We're leaving." The Architect easily removed the IV from Hera's arm and pulled down the covers she was swaddled in.

Curiosity was a trait all Bourgeois' shared. Before she would move (she couldn't move very fast anymore anyway) she asked Ariadne about the handsome person who'd accidentally crept into her room the night before, "Where's Arthur?" Ariadne froze at his name. She locked eyes with her sister for seconds, her fiery pursuit dissolved. Ariadne quickly looked away again and tried to move one of Hera's legs. She felt her sister's hand on her shoulder; it moved to her cheek when Ariadne's face returned to her. "What's happened, Addy?"

"He found out."

"Oh no…" She breathed.

"They took him to the top floor."

"Ariadne…" Her sister sympathized.

"It's fine. Hopefully he'll at least begin to forgive me once Eames and I get us all out of here. Can you walk?"

Hera shook her head. "I lost feeling in my feet yesterday. They've been doubling the chemo…when I stand I get too nauseous."

Hera watched with awe as the wheels turned in Ariadne's head. How Ariadne's eyes flickered around and how she bit her lip, while the solutions weighed themselves against each other. She was designing a plan, reworking it, sketching out new paths and then erasing and re-tracing. Hera had always been jealous of Ariadne's mind and the way it worked. She was so imaginative and Hera herself had been the opposite. Sure, she'd been the trophy child…their mom's pride and joy, the one they dolled up, that competed in pageants and won crowns and did cheerleading but Ariadne was the one everyone else adored. The artsy child who sat in the corner and drew elaborate princess castles. Ariadne was the old soul, the intuitive one, the one with the mind that adults fawned over and picked apart…their dad's favorite. At last, it seemed the younger of the two had settled on a solution, she frowned, "If I put one of your arms around my neck I might be able to carry you to the stairwell and then after I get Arthur, he can carry you the rest of the way." She nodded to agree with herself and moved to swing Hera's arm around her shoulders.

Hera pulled her arm away, "You don't have time for this. Go save Arthur."

"We can do this. You just have to help me." Ariadne moved to head closer to put Hera's arm around her but again Hera resisted.

"I want you to leave me here."

"Well, that's not an option." Ariadne spoke to her as if she was a little girl who insisted on picking cookies when the option was broccoli or spinach. "You're my family. You're a part of me and you're coming with me whether you like it or not." She grabbed her older sister's hand and Hera squeezed it, held it in its spot on her bed.

"I'm too sick, Addy, and I'm so tired. I don't want to fight it anymore. What do you think you're gonna do with me once you get me out?"

Ariadne was exasperated and insisted, "Take you to a hospital and get you the treatment you need, that you should've been getting all this time."

"But I _don't want_ that. I don't want to be in a hospital. I don't want anyone to stick me with anymore needles, I don't want to be pumped with medicine, I want to be done."

"Don't say that." The Architect was repulsed.

"It's time for me to go and I don't want you wasting any more time worrying about me."

The Architect's eyes started to tear, "_I want to take you home_. You're my sister, I love you too much to abandon you."

"And I love _you_. And I can tell by the way you say his name, the way you talk about him, the look in your eyes when you think about him, that you love Arthur. And 'when you love someone,'" Hera quoted a 15 year old Ariadne, "'you're bound to end up doing two things: Teasing the shit out of them-'"

"-And sacrificing part of yourself for them." Ariadne finished for her. "Even if you want to go, I can't just leave you to die in this room, in _Cobol_."

"It's always been about me and Gany. Now, it's about you. Do what you have to."

Ariadne's eyebrows furrowed and her mind revved its engine again. She stood and ran out of the room and down the hallway. The floor had a room where they locked away the items found on each hostage and stored them for future use. Using the employee code she'd swiped earlier she entered the room, found the item she was looking for and raced back to her sister's room. Ariadne pulled a chair next to Hera's bed and laid the object on top of it. She popped it open, set the timer for hours and then pulled the IV out. She stopped and smiled at her sister, "This is called a PASIV. It'll make you sleep and dream and when the end comes, you won't even feel it. You'll have all the time in the world down there. I want you to dream me there with you, though, and Gany…and you can dream that daddy's still alive and him and mom are still together and we can all take that trip to Greece like you wanted."

"Thank you, Addy." The older woman used all the strength she could muster to caress Ariadne's cheek.

With tears rolling down her face, the Architect leaned down to hug her sister and let Hera kiss her on the cheek. They said a couple more 'I love you's' before Ariadne sank the needle into her sister's wrist and pressed the button down.  
xxxxxx

Arthur's hands were bound above his head and he was hanging in the middle of the room. His dress shirt was torn open at the top and his skin was crusted in blood, there were bruises all over him. His head hung low on his chest. Suddenly static sounded through his holding pen and the tv in the corner of the ceiling crackled on. They used the tv to show video of the hostages loved ones being hurt or what have you. What was coming into view however was a large office, Travis' on further inspection. It was security footage. A small figure with a potato sack on their head was brought in over another's shoulder, who then let the smaller fall from their spot and collide on the floor with a loud oomph and scattered coughs. Travis turned around in his office chair utterly lax and motioned for the sack to be removed.

Arthur saw her. The traitor. The evil temptress herself. He couldn't even look at her through the screen and so turned his head away. But the volume was on high and he heard Travis' voice wail, "Well shit! If it isn't Little Miss Architect come to grace us with her presence!" She huffed but said nothing while they picked her up by her hair and made her stand. Travis stood, leaned over the desk and pressed his nose to hers like Arthur had done so many times but far less sweet and endearing, "My little Rebel, welcome home…" A glob of her saliva launched at his face. He grimaced and wiped it with his sleeve. When he stood tall he towered over her; his arms crossed, "You're not being very helpful to your friends and family, now are you? In fact, let's take a look and see where your actions have gotten them, hmm? Poor thing, she's on her last leg I believe." Arthur looked back up to his screen in curiosity to see another tiny one lighting up on it, the figure was striped and distorted from his view but the Architect had gasped. "Oh my God, Hera…she looks awful. Haven't you been treating her?!"

"Not since you've been gallivanting around with your Point Man. You should've known that…why didn't you return any of our calls? We've been playing a large game of tag…"

"Oh _really? _Well what do _you _think? You really needed me to call you? If you're such an all-powerful company and shit don't you think you could've found a simple little girl from Paris? …You'd think you would've been able to pluck me out of the blue and drag me back on your own, hmm?"

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "See…I didn't want to have to show you this but it looks as if we need to tame the beast somehow—" What looked like pictures were brought out and laid on his desk in front of her. Arthur watched the tv as Ariadne's hands clamped over her mouth and she whimpered. "No…Maman…" Her hands squeezed her head, "When did you do this?"

"Around the time you destroyed your tracking chip, I suppose." Ariadne's head dropped down on Travis' desk and she heaved while he continued to poke at her, "She should've had more lessons with the rifle, she's a terrible aim. We're thinking of selling the place but the carpet may need to be cleaned first. Real Estate frowns on blood and guts smeared on the floors." Her fist collided with the desk and she looked up at him sharply. With agility to spare, she pounced over the desk at him and started throwing punches, "I hate you!"

She was pulled off, "Ah, Ah, Ah…unless you want us to reveal more surprises like that, I'd settle down." She was pushed down into a chair. "Where is he?"

Ariadne smiled up at him facetiously and chimed, "Who?"

A loud smack rippled across her face, "ARTHUR."

The Point Man's eyebrows furrowed. They knew where he was, they put him in this room…He observed the rest of the screen and saw a date in white in the bottom right hand corner. This video was from a week ago…this video was from when Ariadne turned herself in. His eyes left the numbers and found her face again to learn what she'd said. "How would I know?"

"You were just with him."

Her eyes narrowed, "I wasn't with _anyone_."

A swift punch to the stomach, "Don't lie to me bitch, we have proof you've been running together." She shrugged. Another slap. "Isn't this why you came back? To make things right?"

"I _am_ making things right. I'm protecting him."

"UGH!" Travis yelled and kicked her shin, "Where IS he?!"

She breathed through the pain and made her best effort to smirk, "If you're such a smart bastard, you tell me."

He pushed away and grabbed headshots from the file cabinet beside him. He held them up one by one in front of her face, "You love your dear old Professor Miles, don't you? Now I can't exactly kill Cobb because of an agreement with Ichiro Saito—but I can torment him. And look at little Philippa and James…wouldn't they like to know where Uncle Arthur is?"

"Don't you dare bring them into this."

"Then tell me where The Point Man is."

Ariadne swallowed. She stared into the printed eyes of her mentor and bit her lip. Her eyes closed and she turned her away to give them their answer, "No."

"I see…" He ripped the headshots in half and let the pieces flitter to the ground. "We'll keep them on speed dial then…."he sighed, "Little Addy Grace—"

"Don't call me that."

"Don't make me have to keep bringing in people to tempt you with. You're making me hurt people, I don't like it." He pouted his lower lip.

She rolled her eyes and sneered, "I have a sickening feeling that you do."

"Where is he?"

"No. I'm done with this! Do what you have to do to me to punish me for running but leave everyone else alone. _Leave Arthur alone._"

Travis laughed, "Oh my God….someone's gotten conceited from all the attention! You forget that we could care less about you…we just need you for our bigger purpose and that bigger purpose is Arthur…there is absolutely no way either of you are getting off the hook. So, where is he?"

"Go to hell." Another slap.

He grabbed his phone, "Fine then. I don't know why I'm wasting my time trying to get you to squeal. Your loyalty is nauseating. He'll come to _me _because I have you." Her eyes widened and she cursed. "All it takes is a ring." He smiled.

The Architect bit the one of the man's hand holding her shoulder down and them tackled Travis and knocked the phone from his hand and stomped on it, threw it against the wall, "OVER MY DEAD BODY." She was flipped around to her back and slammed on the desk with a gun clicked to her temple, "THAT CAN BE ARRANGED." He knocked her out with the butt of his gun and pulled out his cell phone. Minutes later…"Hello Arthur, I think we may have something you want."

The screen fizzled to black.  
xxxxxx

Eames finished hiding Travis and Connors' bodies in his office closet and reloaded his gun. He came back to the computer screen and watched the last of the video he streamed into Arthur's cell to show him her predicament…that she wasn't entirely a traitor. He then clicked it off and left the room, he thanked his new friend and they separated into two different directions as they heard Cobol agents approach.  
xxxxxx

She used the stairwell to climb the levels between her and Arthur's. By the time she reached the top, she was more than winded. Her thighs were burning and she had to take a respite to get her bearings. The top level consisted of four large rooms, with drains in the floor. Down another hallway, there were operation rooms, rooms used for psychological torture and rooms used for target practice. Ariadne started down the main hallway on her tiptoes. There was the sound of doors thrusting open and slamming closed, the sound of fine Italian shoes sprinting down the hallway and guns firing. The person she saw round the corner and firing back over his shoulder was none other than her older brother being chased by Cobol agents. He turned to look where he was going and spotted, "Ariadne!" He pushed her against the wall and covered her from the gunfire being sent her way. He grunted and fired back behind him three times. Not until, they heard two figures hit the tile did he move away from her. "You ok, Addy Grace?"

The Architect was baffled. That was the name her father had called her all through childhood, "You remember?"

"I remembered the second I saw you again. But I'm constantly under watch and more valuable to you if they think I'm on their side, then if I'm dead."

She teased, "Apparently the men chasing you didn't think you were on their side."

"Not after I got caught helping your friend get rid of Travis and Connors. _They _won't bother any of us anymore." Alarms started to blare through the building and an automated voice called out a Code 9. "And it looks like someone found them."

The door on the far end of the hallway opened and Ganymede moved in front of Ariadne again in the niche of time. He pulled his own trigger at the man running towards them before he realized he was out of bullets. He gave Ariadne the gun and told her to pull the next clip from his pocket and load the gun while he covered her. Ariadne clumsily grabbed for the gun and frantically reloaded and cocked it while bullets flew in the air in their direction. Her brother's body jolted several times before she reached over his shoulder and shot the other gunman down. The pulse in her ears slowed when she looked at her brother's bloody face and watched his legs give out as he slid to the ground. She dropped down next to him. "Gany!" His breathing was labored and she cried, "I'm so sorry I got you involved in this."

"It's ok. That's what big brothers are for, right? I was born to protect you Addy Grace, now you get yourself out of here."

She laid across his chest and fisted his jacket, sobbing and listening to his heart's rhythm slow. After he kissed her forehead, she buried her face into his body and wrapped his arm around her. She laid there until his breaths had stopped moving her head up and down. Ariadne lifted her body up so she could gently shut his eyes for him. She wiped her face and told herself to be a big girl. With the sirens blaring, it was only a matter of minutes before the floor was swarmed. Arthur was the only person left she could still get out of this alive and she'd be damned if she didn't do that. She picked up Ganymede's gun and a knife he'd had in his belt and headed towards the only room with a red light lit up above the door. When she entered, He pitifully looked up to see who had come to visit him next. He expected someone with a torture weapon was here to have more entertainment. The last had been fist happy. He was surprised when his eyes, instead, met the watery, red and pleading eyes of Ariadne. "I know you're mad at me but—"

"I'm not mad at _you _exactly. I'm upset that you were thrust into this situation. That you were forced to care for me for other's sakes. That you kept all of it from me and lied about your feelings."

She put the gun in her back pocket and stepped closer to him, "No one had to force me to care about you. I may have lied about why I was running but the person I was on the run is the same one looking at you right now. I _never_ wanted any of this to happen." She touched his face cautiously, afraid he'd recoil. Arthur sighed and searched her eyes while she said, "I can't bear to lose you, Arthur. Even if you hate me for—"

"I saw the video…I don't blame you for choosing your family and Miles and Cobb's kids over me. How are they doing?"

"Hera's gone. They killed Gany…"

"What?"

"They found out that he helped Eames kill Travis."

Arthur's eyes widened and he started against the rope that attached him to the ceiling, "Travis is dead?!"

She nodded, "That's why the alarms were tripped."

_All of my men know that if anything happens to me…she's the first one to die._

"What are you still doing here?! The sirens have been screeching for ten minutes. All of them know that if something happens to him, you're number one on their list!"

"I know but I wasn't going to leave you."

He shook his head. Stubborn, so stubborn. She took the knife and started to saw away at the ropes above his head. "Now when the rope slacks, it's going to set off a sensor. We'll have about thirty seconds before the floor is swarmed with Cobol agents and 2 minutes, 59 seconds until the floor is gassed out. I know a way out," The rope snapped and a continuous beeping started, "Just follow me."

Arthur shook his arms to get the blood flow going as she walked to the door. She turned and found him glued to his spot, unmoving. Ariadne walked back over to him, "I know I haven't given you any reason to but please trust me." He only stared, hesitant to take a step. Afraid that her confession and apology and the video stream were all another ruse. Another way to build his hope before crushing it again. "Believe me when I say this or don't but I love you and I want to get you out of here no matter what it takes or what penalty I have to face for it." He wanted to believe her; you could see it in his eyes, the softening, but the set of his jaw was still there. "It's up to you. Once I get you out, you don't ever have to speak to me again. I don't expect you to forgive me or go back to feeling the way that you did…and if you really think I would lead you into a trap again, you could always wait here for one of them to find and kill you. But I'm offering you everything I can give right now, so it's worth a shot isn't it?"

After a moment, he nodded. She handed him the gun and then entered the hallway. With Arthur behind her, her confidence was restored. She pulled him down the first hallway turned left into the back offices when it sounded like the sky opened up and Armageddon was upon them. His first thought was: _she led me into an ambush _ until she pushed him ahead of her into the next hallway and took a set of bullets for him. One in her thigh, one grazing her side. The trust was starting to restore. Before he could ask if she was ok, she pulled him along the trail, limping but running as the sounds of feet chased them. Bullets rained down on them again and Arthur pulled his gun. There was no end to the army of men pooling through the door and if they tried to duck out into the stairwell they would only follow them. "Go ahead, I'll hold them off!"

Then she gave him that look. The look he saw when he told her to climb to the roof and take off in the helicopter, the look he saw when told her go through the other suite and get out of the fire, when he told her get on the plane. It was the look that said I'd rather suffer with you than be safe alone. In times of terror and panic, it's impossible to hide behind a character. That look was his Ariadne…and though it'd been tried and she'd momentarily faltered—she was loyal to him. She did care…she didn't have to do all this and wouldn't if she was the coldhearted Cobol agent he knew deep down that she wasn't. Her actions were backing up her words and he realized that when she told him the night they made love that she'd die for him, _she meant it_ and was prepared to help fight and die by his side at that very moment. Her resolve terrified him sometimes… "Go, Ari…" He intently yet softly commanded her.

The girl shook her head defiantly, "No. I didn't break you out of the execution room just to let you be killed anyway."

"What happens will happen whether you're standing by me or not. I can't focus on defending myself while I'm worried about protecting and shielding you."

She rasped, "Then don't worry about me. Give me the gun. You go, I'll stay…I got us into this. It should be my responsibility." She reached for the weapon and he moved it away.

"You know me better than to suggest that. I'm too much of a gentleman—Ladies _first." _He took her shoulders and pushed her to the door. He cocked his gun and turned to take his stance, the footsteps were getting louder and sounded to be rounding the corner, splitting up into different hallways, they would be here soon.

"Arthur," she snatched the gun from his grasp and went around in front of him. He went to take it back but she held it away. "_Please_ go." Ariadne's voice started to break, "You have to be the one that gets out alive. I won't be able to live with myself if you don't."

This couldn't be a character. This couldn't be a lie. Why would someone who could care less about you beg you to let them take their life for you? No those words, those tears…that was the girl he'd fallen in love with. Those eyes were the ones he'd gazed into that night in her cell. _That _was Ariadne. The Point Man tucked her hair behind her ear, "_Sweetheart…_" At his initiation of contact and their joke—but not so much anymore—of a pet name she leaned into his touch and shot her hand up to hold his there on her head. She hoped this was the beginning of forgiveness and she needed the rest of it. She needed to be forgiven all the way, she needed him to love her like he used to again so she asked, "Let me do this. Let me make things right, let me make it up to you…" The footsteps were rounding the corner and they could hear shouting. Arthur leaned in and whispered, "You already have," and then he left a warm, tender kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, she noticed she was standing on the landing of the stairs and he was on the other side of the door, closing it. There was no gun in her hand and the men were firing and piling up behind him. He slammed the door shut and must've blocked it with something so she couldn't try to come back for him.

She banged on the door, "You don't know how to get out, I have to lead you!"

Through the door and before the gunshots got too close and loud from them to hear, he calls "We'll improvise! GO!"

She dragged it out, hesitated as long as she could. Then began running down the first flight of stairs. She collided with the door on the landing when it flew open. She fell back onto the stairs and held her breath for the person she'd meet. It was a tall, ginger, in a grey suit. The agent's eyes fixed on her like she was a piece of steak and he pulled a knife with vengeance seeping from his pores. She was the one everyone was after, she was the reason their CEO was dead and she was the first hostage they were ordered to get rid of. He bared his teeth like a bear and lunged at her. Ariadne tried to push him off but he proved to be too strong. Remembering some self-defense, she kicked him in the crotch and tried to get back up the stairs to Arthur. A hand snaked around her ankle and pulled her backwards towards him. She hit her cheek bone on the way down but quickly twisted to start kicking at the figure; she hoped to kick his lethal weapon out of his grasp. Slowly, each time she fended him off she crept up a step. The man was getting pissed. He took it upon himself to pin her against the steps and straddle her legs to keep her from going anywhere. She yelled and threw her fists at him but it was futile. She was so small and the man was so big. She was demure and he was too powerful. He was too bloodthirsty and she had panicked. Every time she threw her arm up to block his attempts, a little more of the flesh on her arm chipped off. The slices were beginning to burn and for some reason, her mind faltered under the pressure. She stopped fighting, covered her head with her arms and screamed for Arthur. The knife drove into her abdomen with a sickening spurt.

Her voice didn't sound her own when she screamed at the top of her lungs. The pain was blinding, suffocating, sharp and overwhelming. It seared. It hurt so much that she felt cold to the core yet everything burned at the same time. Her own blood splattered on her face while he twisted the blade inside of her. All she could think of was the insurmountable pain and profound karma she was flooded with. She screamed for her Point Man again, knowing that he couldn't hear her but knew he would come running if he could when the sharp object left her body and then entered it again on the other side of her abdomen. She fought her negative thoughts furiously while she watched the gleam of the metal as the man rose it to strike again. This time, she saw the knife come down in slow motion towards her chest.

Xxxxxx

So they're dropping like flies, now. Hope Ariadne has begun to redeem herself in your eyes and her talk with Eames helped clear things up as to her involvement with Cobol. I'm always here to answer questions and clear up confusion though…I actually really like this chapter, it was fun to write.

**Review review **_**please**_**! I need thoughts before I can work on the **_**next chapter **_**:P **


	24. N E E D

Big thanks to: _Guest, maikrominiskirt, origamifoxes, KellyD.R, Lani, feelthefreedom, Legal-Assassin-006, penitentiary bound, Artemis Rayne, Dryad Warrior Queen, Lazarus76, InBlue85, Andree H, PrincessLove123, Guest, insanityisgenius, Cardinala, belle-amie57, SamMinnie, LeslieSophia, abel is in the castle, QuirkyJerky, Miss Ariadne, Lavendar26._

I actually absolutely love this chapter…but we'll see what you guys think.

**Chapter 24: NEED**

Her adrenaline allowed her to assess her options all in the time it took the suited man to raise his weapon. Ariadne could let him do it and resign herself to doom or she could go down kicking, screaming and fighting and hopefully he'd have to be injured in the process of killing her. Before the tip of the metal could make a third trip into her body she grabbed the man's wrist with both hands and used all her force to throw it against the wall. The knife scraped against it and slid, causing a cut across her pursuer's face. "You bitch!" He raised it again and Ariadne repeated her maneuver. She grabbed his wrist with both hands and tried to keep it from trailing downward. The tip of the knife was touching the skin below her collar bone. The more the man pressured and the more she resisted, the more the knife lightly slid across her chest and made a thin slice. The sensation of a paper cut times infinity…The Architect mustered more strength and rammed his wrist away and into the railing. The split second she had while his arm went through the railing and then pulled back out to prepare to stab her was the split second she took to punch him like Eames taught her. The man grabbed his face both in shock and pain and thankfully she was able to scramble from beneath him. She almost slipped on her own puddle of blood. The agent gave out a battle cry and right away Ariadne realized he was going in to stab her in the back. She pivoted, grabbed the railing for support and kicked him in the head with everything she had. The man lost his balance and fell backwards. He collided with the floor and his neck broke.

The Architect dropped to sit on one of the stairs and try to keep from crying. She was so sure he was going to keep stabbing her until she was nothing but a bunch of holes that he could play connect the dots with. She looked at the trail of blood that trickled down the stairs and didn't comprehend-until the adrenaline wore off and the pain of the giant hole in her abdomen started throbbing-that that waterfall of blood leaking down was hers. She stumbled down to the dead man and peeled off his jacket. She ripped the sleeve of his shirt and tried to press it against her. She was bleeding profusely. As she stood over the dead company man, her crimson droplets stained his clothes like rain. She looked at her hands…stained with her life's fluid, dripping. _Improvise._

Leave it to Ariadne to find the good in every situation. She took her hands and smeared them against the wall. The Architect painted an arrow on it and then pressed her hands against the door to the hallway that both she and Arthur would have to take. She tripped down the deserted hallway as fast as she could. Every couple of strides she would press her hand to her wound and then leave her prints in the direction Arthur would follow. It was like Ariadne in the labyrinth. Her namesake. Yet instead of leading her Athenian prince out with a red string, she was leading him with her red liquid. She crossed through two doors and turned another corner before there was the entrance to the hidden staircase. From here she would only need to go down. Her body wasn't far behind though.

Xxxxxx

There seemed no end to the madness. A man grabbed his back and Arthur threw a fist into his face before he snatched a man's collar and threw him into the wall all the while firing off at the men charging at him. He ducked and dodged and grabbed men to hold as shields in front of him. How long had Ariadne said he had before the floor gassed? He rammed the butt of his gun into one man's face, shot at one and then twisted the gun of one man in front of him so that the man shot himself. Then an automated woman's voice began to count down from 10 and all of the men's pagers were going off. The Cobol agents targeting him recognized what that meant and started to retreat. They pushed and trampled each other. With seconds to spare Arthur dove into the stairway and crouched down by the railing before he heard the air split and the gas hissing in. When Arthur opened his eyes, his heart dropped.

Right away he knew that Ariadne had struggled. Thank God the dead body strewn on the landing below was a Cobol agent's and not hers. As Arthur's eyes searched he saw the river of blood, the used knife discarded on a step and bloodied hand prints painted in an arrow to show him out. The agent's hands were void of blood. It was pooling around his head but there was no reason it should be splattered on his suit like it was and he certainly couldn't have ripped his sleeve if he'd plunged to his death. Ariadne was bleeding out… and just with that thought, Arthur had a new energy. He wrenched the door open and stepped into the hallway. Her tiny red handprints were plastered all over the walls, there were crusted over footprints down the hall and reddish brown dots decorating her path. She had indeed improvised with what she had. She had left him the bread crumbs and all he needed to do to get out and get to her was to _FOLLOW THE RED. _Arthur's feet had never carried him so fast.  
xxxxxx

Ariadne was feeling weaker and weaker, she'd had to death grip the railing as she toppled down the last flight of stairs. She was only two steps away from the ground when her legs gave out and she fell face first into the floor. With a groan, Ariadne tried to move her legs. They felt like play-doh. They tingled when she tried to use their muscles and so she stilled, laid her head back on the ground and let her eyes fall closed. It felt so comfortable and cozy with her eyes closed; she could fall asleep right here. Wouldn't that be nice? The exit was just at the end of the hallway, Arthur would be able to figure it out…Her eyes shot back open. It was _just at the end of the hallway. _She was _right there_ and by God she wasn't about to let Arthur carry her out of another bad situation like some dainty, helpless princess. She was supposed to be the damn hero this time. She had redeeming to do. Ariadne gritted her teeth and pulled with her elbows. The friction and the pressure on her knife wounds were stifling, but she swallowed it down and kept army crawling down the hallway. It was slow process but steady and effective. Before long, her elbows had been rubbed raw with the tug of the skin. The slices on her forearms that had been quick to heal were now reopened. The Architect left a solid trail of blood like a slug leaves trails of slime. More than once did she have to pause, rest her head on the cool concrete and take deep breaths. At the door, she missed the handle the first few times she reached for it, her depth perception was becoming askew…nevertheless she used all the strength she could gather to pull herself up against the door handle. Once up, she let her limp body fall against it so that her body weight would push in the bar and swing the door open, her body dragging with it as it did. Eames was bruised all over and he adorned a black eye and a torn shirt. The corner of his mouth bled and his knuckles were swollen. By him was another familiar face—"Cobb?" and was she dreaming?—There was a Cavalry of Asians and four or five big black SUV's ready and waiting. He had been waiting by the door for her arrival and when he'd heard it open, at first glance at her, he was ecstatic she was down there with him. "Darling, you made it!" Not until he let himself look and _really _look at her did her notice that her eyes weren't focused even though he was the only thing she was looking at and standing very close to her, her peaches and crème had been replaced by the starkest and grayest of pallor and blood leaked all over her from a gash in her abdomen. She was covered in it, soaking wet from it.

"Eames," She breathed, no resonance found in her voice, "I don't think I can stand anymore." There were bright flashes of light appearing in her vision and she blinked in panic trying to get them to dissolve. Her arms felt too weak to hold on to the door any longer and the second she let go of the door handle she collapsed to the ground. (_Almost the ground? She thought Eames caught her_.)

Cobb lowered down to the ground with her and Eames and immediately called to the Asian business man, "Saito! We need a doctor!"

A small man ran over with a briefcase of various medical tools. He checked her pulse, blood pressure (which was bottoming out) and assessed her various stab wounds. He informed in broken English as he wrapped a bandage around her, "Her wounds are too great, there is nothing I can do myself, she needs a hospital."

Eames and Cobb shared a scared to death lock of eyes and Cobb offered, "You go with her—I'll wait and bring Arthur. He's going to need some calming down…"

"He's going to need a valium…" Eames rubbed his mouth and picked her up like a baby. Cobb followed close with his arms held out in case any assistance was needed.

Her senses worked in waves. She heard Eames curse. (_Not at her, she doesn't think and if she could remember which muscles were used to laugh at him and his quirky British slang, she would've._) She felt her body glide, ("Eames am I floating?" "No I'm carrying you Darling.") and then land somewhere cramped. (_The back of a car, cardboard box?_) She saw the Forger's face. (_When did he grow two more ear lobes? Why was he moving his face so rapidly in front of her? Was he trying to make her dizzy?_) Ariadne heard something deeply growl and felt the structure beneath her vibrate with life. She must be in a—she couldn't think of the word but it was something that took you placid—_no-places, right?_ The Architect felt pressure on her sensitive wound and heard a loud guttural roar (_was a lion in the backseat with her? Backseat of what?_) and maybe it was coming from her but she didn't feel like she was making noise, her stomach just hurt like shit. And the more that thing sat on it…(_was something sitting on her? It was a lot of precious—no, pressure._) the more it throbbed and the more the lightning struck in front of her face. She was terribly confused and his name was slipping her mind but she remembered it sounded something like, "Eades?"

"Yes, Dear?"

"Are we—where are we gone to?"

The Forger smoothed her hair back as Cobb adjusted her legs so that she laid in the backseat of one of Saito's vehicles. Eames tried to buckle her without the seatbelt cutting into her already sliced flesh and Cobb took off his jacket to lay on top of her. "You're hurt so Saito's men are here and they're going to take you to the hospital." Cobb replied, talking simple as if he was talking to a toddler.

Eames ran around and sat himself in the front seat when Arthur burst through the door, "Where is she?!"

Right away Cobb was at his side to quell his best friend, "She's in Saito's car, we've got to get her to the hospital."

He should've been surprised maybe even happy or relieved to see Cobb but how he was here or why didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was finding his Architect and making sure she was alright—he already knew she wasn't.—He gaited pass Cobb and Saito only briefly nodding at him. Her transportation revved up and Arthur dove into the back with her. He didn't bother buckling his seatbelt or closing the door, (Cobb had closed it for him and both he and Saito jumped into the next SUV over to follow them. The rest of Saito's men stayed behind to follow out orders which were infiltrating and incarcerating all Cobol men possible.) Instead, Arthur drug Ariadne's body into his lap. He winced at the stream of blood she left in her wake. He joked lightheartedly with her as he swept her hair from her face, "Anything to get attention, huh?" Like Eames, it took him longer to notice that her eyes were fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. She felt unnaturally cold and she showed no sign of recognizing him. She muttered incoherently, "Arth…we can't leave Arth…where's Arth? Arth…"

He cupped her face, "I'm right here, Ari."

Her legs became restless, and grunts filled the back seat as she labored to sit up, coughing up a lung. Spats of crimson left her mouth and landed on her lap. Arthur maneuvered her so that her head was propped against his other shoulder and he could see her face. "No, you can't do this…"

_Why did her legs feel so restless? There were ants inside her limbs, she was positive. Was there an earthquake? Or was that the czar—the scar—the tar, no—the thing that took you placemat—places! or was it just her? Why did everything sound so fuzzy and ow! Her fiend—friend—(was he her friend?) He looked family—famish—familiar…(he mushed be. –Must be) Must be what? Where are me? Who? Hoo. Owls. It hurtsithurtsithurtstoomuch. Make it stamp-stoop. No, I mean STOP._

Her head lolled about on her shoulders like a bobble head and she made involuntary, inaudible groans. Arthur looked down to Cobbs' suit jacket that was pressed against her abdomen and saw the dark patch of crimson seeping through the bandage. "Don't you dare do this to me, Ari. This is in no way making it up to me." He pressed against it harder and she jumped.

_The pain! The pain! The pain! What's pain? Paint? Plant. It hurls too muck—no, hurts too much. Is this parsnip—parlay—person—is this person doing this to her? Why does her storage harp so muck? Wallow is happily? Mark it stamp. Mark it stamp. It hurls. Hurls too muck. Too muck. Too muck!_

Before long she was beginning to shiver and her breathing began slowing down. "I'm not going to let you win this one…" Arthur rubbed her arms up and down to keep her warm and keep her blood pumping to her heart, placing kisses along her hairline. He felt her body slump vaguely and found that her eyes were slowly closing. He grabbed her chin and turned it to him, "Ariadne, look at me, keep your eyes open, ok?" She was slipping away…Arthur could feel her spirit leaving her body, "Look at me, Ariadne." She continued her downward spiral and her head was falling away from him. He turned it back, "Ariadne." Her head was facing him but she was unseeing. She saw right passed him, her eyes were empty and she was unresponsive. He almost demanded. "Ariadne." She shivered one last time before her eyes shut all the way and wouldn't flutter or crack back open. "Ariadne, dammit! Stop being stubborn and open your eyes for me!" When she wouldn't respond and seemed lifeless he called desperately to the driver, "How close are we?!"

Eames, who'd been watching the scene twisted over his seat, looked back to the front window to find out and replied as coolly as possible, "It's just after the next light."

"We're here, go!" He pulled in and Arthur carried her, running into the emergency room. They brought out a hospital bed to lay her on and slipped an oxygen mask over her face. Several doctors gathered around and spat out jargon to one another as they started wheeling her back to the intensive care unit. Cobb and Saito jogged in shortly after and caught up with the two men already following her down the hall. "What's going on with her?"

"Well, Sir, are you her-?"

"Fiance."

"Right. She's lost too much blood to be functional thus some of her senses are shutting down to make up for it. Her pulse is at a dangerously slow rate."

Arthur's eyes widened and Eames cut in, "But by stopping the bleeding, they can fix her?"

"Well, that's all we _can _do right now. Unfortunately, she needs a blood or plasma donation."

"Take mine. As much as you need." Arthur offered as they wheeled her into the elevator.

"What type are you?"

"A negative."

"She needs B positive. Now that's not too novel a blood type so it shouldn't be hard to find a match. The problem is she needs an inhumanly large amount, one that would take two donors for all parties involved to have a safe blood level after donation. If her kidney continues having the reaction its having, we may need to do a kidney transplant as well."

Eames stepped in, "Don't you have some on hand for things like this."

"Well yes but there _are _other people in need of blood and kidneys in the hospital. There's a waiting a list and—"

Saito clicked his earpiece, spout out some Japanese and then addressed the doctor, "I have three such men willing to donate. The operation should begin immediately." Arthur turned to shake Saito's hand and firmly, meaningfully thank him.

"All right then…." The elevator found its destination, the Doctor informed everyone of the impending operation and rolled her out and down the hallway. The Point Man power walked to keep in step with her gurney. As they turned the corner, he reached out to touch her cheek but missed. He moved to the side of her bed, walking with his hand on her foot, talking to her as if she was awake and panicking and asking him for help. "It's going to be ok, Ariadne. You shouldn't feel it; they're going to make you good as new." Cobb, Saito and Eames also followed but further behind to give the doctor's space. The Extractor and Forger communicated worry with their eyes when they heard the Point Man say, "I'm not going to leave you. I'll be right here, holding your hand the whole time, I promise." They were afraid to imagine his reaction when he realized they would not let him into the O.R. no matter how rich he was, how special he viewed himself or the situation, or how in love with her he was.

When they wheeled her in, what Cobb and Eames suspected to happen, happened. They held Arthur off until her gurney was inside and then slipped in before he could make his move and left him in the hallway. He grabbed for the handle when Cobb pulled him aside, "Come on Arthur, why don't you wait over here with Eames and I?"

"I promised her I'd be in there with her."

Cobb shook his head and gently broke it to him, "You know the rules of the Hospital, Arthur. They don't allow _anyone _who isn't a Doctor, Nurse, or Specialist into that room. You can't go in."

"You—you went in when Mal had James," the reality had begun to fluster him.

"Because she was having a baby… you know this is much _much_ different."

The Doctor nodded solemnly in agreement and looked the four men over. When his eyes grazed over Arthur's form, his breath caught, "Sir, you're bleeding as well."

Arthur looked down, he hadn't even noticed his own injury. Eames looked at him, "Holy shit." The Doctor ripped the hole in Arthur's shirt open more and found a bullet wedged just under his ribcage. Blood periodically waved out from around the bullet when Arthur took a breath.

The Doctor called for another hospital bed and addressed the men, "We need to get that out before it gets infected."

Some nurses wheeled the gurney up to them and tried to push Arthur onto it, "No," he resisted, "Ariadne needs me with _her._ My wounds can wait."

The Doctor insisted, "Sir, if we don't attend to your wound, you'll end up in just as bad a shape as the young lady."

"You'll be no good to her then Arthur," Eames added, "It won't take long." The Brit knew that if he appealed to the part of Arthur that was centered on Ariadne, he would agree. And so he did—but hesitantly.

"I want to be in the room across from her. I want my door open so I can see."

"I'm afraid that's not possible—" One of the nurses meekly stated and Arthur reamed him, "I will buy out this entire fucking wing of the hospital if I have to! My. Door. Stays. Open."

Again the billionaire-with a few sentences in Japanese into his earpiece-fixed the problem. "I have bought the hospital. I need to go to the office to sign but the transaction is complete," he showed the Doctor his phone screen for proof. "You will do as Mr. Arthur says."  
xxxxxx

The nurses strapped on their masks and sanitized their hands before they put on their gloves. Arthur stared anxiously across the hallway at her closed operation room door. He briefly made eye contact with Eames—who was standing in the middle of the hallway between their doors—before one of the assistant doctors addressed him. "This may be very painful. I have to use some tweezer like tongs to dig around for the bullet. Nancy here," he gestured to the woman on Arthur's other side, "is going to put you to sleep so you don't feel a thing."

"I don't want anesthetics. I'm staying awake and alert. Ariadne needs me to." He demanded.

"Sir, I have to warn you, this will—"

"I have a high tolerance for pain."

"Ok…but if you feel you need it, _if the pain is too much to handle_ just call out to Nancy."

Arthur grit his teeth and gripped the arms of the rails as the Doctor did his work. He tensed and grunted when the Doctor pricked a nerve as he tried to close around the metal in him. His breathing sped up and squeezed his eyes shut as the Doctor carefully pulled it out. "There we go." Immediately, The Point Man made to get up but the Doctor put his hand on his chest to settle him back down. "Hold on, we still need to stitch it up."

"Can't it wait? It's crucial I get in that room with her. She needs me."

"What she needs is blood and they can't have too many people crowding the room and making the transfusion harder. What _you _need is to have your wound stitched up so you don't bleed to death as well." The Doctor informed curtly.

Arthur gave the surliness right back to him, "I understand what I need but this isn't about me. _Ariadne needs_ me in there with her, what if something happens?"

"They'll do their best to take care of it." The nurse handed him the tools he needed and he began rubbing alcohol on the area he would be inserting the needle into.

"Just let me go and finish this later. I have to b—"

"It won't take much longer, Sir, I promise."  
xxxxxx

The Doctor was halfway finished with Arthur's stitches when things started beeping and extra doctors were rushing into her room. When her doors flew open with her doctors' entrances Arthur could hear loud beeping and shouting. The makings of panic and distress.

"What's happening?" His own doctors tried to ignore the commotion to keep him calm, "What's happening? Cobb?"

His two best friends, left to stand in the hallway between their friends' rooms and deal with it all tensed. Eames turned to Cobb, "Dom—this isn't good."

"I know, I'm beside myself in fear for her."

"And Arthur…" Eames shook his head, "They're every bit like you and Mal. If she dies on that table—"

"Oh God…" Cobb groaned.

The door opened again and as a Doctor shot in to her room asking Arthur's question, Arthur heard the distinct answer, "She's going into shock…Charge the defibrillator!"

"Ariadne!" Arthur leapt up but his Doctors swarmed to hold him down.

"She can't hear you, Sir. We're almost done here. Just settle down for a moment." They suggested.

"Set it to 50. Clear!"

"Oh God—she needs me!" He writhed against them, "Let me out of this fucking room!"

"Clear!"

"She needs me!" Arthur grasped and slapped at the men and women keeping him from the Architect, "She needs me in there! She needs me! _Please!_"

Eames looked to Cobb for guidance. Things were going downhill. Should they answer Arthur, should they help hold him down, should they lie to him? Cobb knew the questions without hearing a word, "Do _not _look at him. Keep your back turned. If he sees the panic in our eyes right now—if he has any reason to think she won't make it—we're going to see a side of Arthur we've never seen."

"It's not coming back up! Up the charges!"

Arthur caught Eames' worried stare. Eames hadn't meant for Arthur to see the horror in his eyes, it'd been an accident their eyes had met and he had conveyed the reality of what was happening in her room. He knew the moment Arthur saw the look on his face he would break. And he did. They doctors couldn't hold him back any longer. He shoved them off and ripped away from the doctor working on his injury. He sprinted across the hallway, pushed Cobb and Eames apart and to the ground and barged into her room.

"Sir...You're not allowed back here, Get out!" They tried to push him back out right away. He couldn't believe his eyes. The chaos, the machines, the plethora of doctors and they couldn't fix this? They couldn't make her better?

Bee-p.

The Point Man looked to the machine making all the noise and saw the screen had a straight line across it. Weren't there supposed to be peaks and falls in her heartbeat?! "….Somebody do something!" He yelled into the face of the doctor holding his shoulders.

"Set the charge to 70."

She jolted and the screen momentarily spiked and the long beep broke up into several smaller ones but it returned to its previous flat pattern. Arthur combusted. All his composure rushed down the drain. He pushed passed the doctors and ran to her bed. He forgot they couldn't use the defibrillator if anyone was making contact with her or her bed. "Ariadne, don't you do this! You can fight this! Fight for me!" Maniacally, he yells at the left side of her chest, "Beat! Beat Goddammit!"

"Get him out of here, NOW." The main Doctor screeched and Eames came through the door to help drag the bucket of nerves back into the hallway, "Arthur!"

"NO! LET ME GO, DAMMIT! She needs me!" The door closed and he heard them lock it. He began pounding on the door and the wall nearby. He hears the man yell "Clear!" again and Arthur shouts 'No!' through the walls.

Eames turns him around and pushes him against the wall with force and Cobb comes to move Eames aside. He gestures that he's got it and Eames retreats down the hallway to lean against the wall and let his own worry for the girl seize him, "Arthur, calm down."

"Dom..."

"I know…" The Extractor soothed, "I know how you feel. But you have to keep it together. You have to keep that mask, you need to be _The Point Man_. That's what she needs you to be right now." He inconspicuously had guided Arthur back into his own room.

"I can't lose her. I-I can't. If something happens to her…She's _everything…_She's everything good about life, Cobb."

"I know…" Cobb sat him down on his own operating bed.

"I _need_ her alive. More than I've ever needed anything, _I need her._" Arthur grabbed his head with both hands and started pulling at his hair, tearing up. Cobb patted his back, "I know, Buddy, trust me I know."

Through the doors of her room he hears one doctor yell, "She's not responding, we're losing her!"

He was losing her. The light in the world was being eclipsed. She was slipping away and everything became unbearable. Everything stung. Everything was garish and ugly. He looked at Cobb and for the first time in his life, the Extractor saw fear in the Point Man's eyes. Undeniable fear as if something was about to swallow him whole. "I'm losing her…" Arthur tried to get back up, to get in her room but every nurse and doctor used their strength to hold him down. Eames—after hearing the Doctors call and knowing the effect it would have- closed the door to Arthur's room but could hear him in the hallway.

"Please, I'm losing her!" His eyes poured out and he pulled at his hair even harder. He rocked back and forth and grunted and moaned. "Ariadne! Ariadne! I need you, _please_!" He was losing her. _He was losing her. _All his injuries and broken bones and bullets and concussions and stabs…those weren't pain. Those weren't even close. Watching her being beat, hearing her raped and not being able to protect her…that wasn't torment, that wasn't pain._ This _was pain. This was indescribable, unfathomable, insurmountable, ineffable pain. Arthur's eyes then conveyed another action Cobb had never seen: begging, pleading, graveling, "Dom…let me see her…I just, I need to see her one last time. I need to be with her, please, Dom."

"I'm sorry, Arthur…" was all Cobb could whisper in reply as he assisted in pinning the Point to his bed.

"What does she need? Cut me open and give it to her…"

"Is the blood going in?!" One of the Doctor's yelled, "It's taking! We're feeding it in but I think she's too far gone for it to make a difference!"

Eames' legs gave out and he found himself sliding down the outside of Arthur's door and covering his head in his hands. Cobb's eyes closed and he gripped one of Arthur's hands. Arthur's head crashed back on the bed and started rolling back and forth in agony, a constant stream of strangled, "No, No, No, No, No, No, No…"And finally he called, "Nancy…I can't handle it; It's too much…Put me out, it hurts too much!" With a sharp stick in his arm that he never felt, everything faded to black from there.

Xxxxxx

…..well….there's really nothing to say to follow that…

It was pretty much utter chaos…and angst and welp- I depressed myself. So…review please! Make me happy again? I bet reviews would make Arthur happy again ;) Oh! And anyone catch why I named the story FOLLOW THE RED?


	25. The International News

I cannot express my love and appreciation for the following people enough!  
_Legal-Assassin-006, KellyD.R, I love you Roza, abel is in the castle, BubbleXGumXPink, origamifoxes, Dryad Warrior Queen, Lani, physhiephox, cinematherapy, feelthefreedom, Miss Ariadne, LeslieSophia, Andree H (I would hug you back!), belle-amie57, invisiblereader13, Guest, sweetpea42, QuirkyJerky, ScatterBrain77, Trina-D, InBlue85, Lazarus76 (THANKS for the PM!), juliet257 (invaded your dreams? Awesome!), PrincessLove123, snapdragon17 (honored for the fave ), Guest, ValeriaAnne, Splendor in Silver (loved the puns in your review ), Miggs, snittycakez._

**Chapter 25: International News**

He woke hours later. His eyes opened groggily and adjusted to the light after seconds of being cross eyed first. Everything was silent except for the sound of his own breathing. His mouth felt papery and dry and he looked around the room in innocent curiosity before it all came flooding back. Arthur jumped up in the bed faster than recommended, resulting in dizziness. Without permission or assistance he left the room (he'd noticed he'd been moved to Recovery) and found the Nurses' desk. "Could you give me the room number of Ariadne Bourgeois?" He repeated her name in the form of spelling it. After typing and clicking the Nurse informed him that there was not an Ariadne in Recovery. "Will you check intensive care and emergency?"

"There's no room assigned to an Ariadne in the hospital, I'm sorry."

His eyes shut; he swallowed and choked out, "What about the, um—will you check…Could you check the morgue, please?

"Arthur!" There was a strong hand on his back and the Brit suddenly appeared,  
"She's in the O.R. again, they haven't readied a room yet."

The Point Man breathed a Thank God and followed Eames while he explained the events Arthur had missed, "They managed to bring her heart rate back up yesterday and the blood took fine but her kidney had already shut down so they had to follow through with the transplant after all. The first one went black as soon as the vascular clamps came off it and they had to rush another over. She seemed fine overnight and the better part of this morning but just an hour or so ago her nurse found nothing in her urine but blood. Ariadne's body rejected the second kidney."

"But you've found another right?"

"Yes. The good news is some of Saito's men found Hera and Ganymede. The boy was too far gone to use his organs but her sister was hooked to a PASIV and still technically alive. They brought her here but when they unhooked the PASIV she was declared brain dead…but we can still use her kidney and being Ariadne's sister, she is the perfect match."

"But the cancer?"

"Was breast cancer, it shouldn't affect the kidney once transferred over." They reached the elevator when Eames halted and put his arm out to stop Arthur as well, "You will behave yourself if I take you up there, won't you? We can't have you popping your stitches open for the third time. They won't let you past the waiting room… Are you sure you can handle this?"

They stepped aside to let other passengers go ahead of them and then Arthur shook his head, "No. In fact, I'm sure I won't. But if she gives up or miraculously recovers I need to be right there as close as they'll let me no matter what."

Satisfied, Eames pulled him onto the elevator and guided him to the Operating Room waiting area. Already there-reading the paper—was Cobb and next to him with his hands folded in his lap and bags under his eyes was Professor Miles. An hour later the Doctor came out, "Mr. Cobb…" But the bundle of nerves next to him was standing at attention already, "The surgery was a success." Professor Miles stood, thanked the doctor and shared a hug with Mr. Eames. Cobb patted Arthur on the back as he shook the Doctor's hand rigorously. Arthur ran his other hand through his hair and allowed himself to be overjoyed. He grinned like a clown, "When can I see her?"

"Well-she is still unconscious. Her body has been through quite some trauma, near heart failure, several surgeries, pumped with anesthesia…not positive when she'll come to. She is going to be under Nurse Watch for the next 48 hours to make sure there are no further complications. We had to triple her dosage of anti-rejection medication so her immune system is down; we can't have anyone else in the room."

Deep breaths. Eames caught Arthur's eyes and gave him a warning. "Is there anywhere I can stay? I'd prefer not to leave the hospital."

"Unfortunately the closest is the hotel across the street."

The 48 hours were brutal. He slept none, ate little, and spent most of his time watching her through the window of her privy room. But when it was time and her forty eight hours ended with a successful check-up, he was allowed into her room. The nurse led him in. When he entered his smile shrunk. She was _still_ asleep, with IVs and hearts monitors hooked up to her, wires and an oxygen mask. The nurse kindly gave him a moment alone with her.

He walked to her side and looked down on her, placed his hand on the side of her face, "That's my girl. Death be no match…You're so stubborn. You know that? Unbelievably stubborn…and brave…and strong, right? You're the toughest woman I know. You're going to get through this." He nodded to her but it seemed more like he was nodding to himself. He took her hand in both of his and knelt down by her bed, "You have to get through this for me, ok, Ari? I need you. You make me human. I don't—"He shook his head and dropped it. "I don't think I can live without you." He waited a minute or two, analyzed her like he'd done so many times. He gave her time to reply though he knew she wouldn't. Then his body climbed into the hospital bed with her and spooned her carefully, trying not to jumble or pull any wires. "Look I'll make you a deal…I promise that if you wake up for me, you can ask one hundred questions and I'll have to answer them all honestly. You love wheedling information out of me." Arthur brought her hand up to kiss it and then chuckled, "Remember that time you tricked me into telling you my real last name? You asked me why my parents picked Arthur and I told you the story about my uncle. Then you asked me why they picked Nolan and I gave you the _most_ condescending look, I know, and I told you that they couldn't pick it…that's what I was born as. Then you gave me that evil-beautiful grin of yours and I kicked myself in the butt for letting your big brown eyes get the best of me again." Arthur left kisses on his path up her shoulder, "I love you. You know that?" Then he smiled to himself and tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, straightened a wrinkle in her hospital gown, "Don't act so surprised. It's your faul—"

The door opened, "Excuse me, Sir, could you leave the room for just a moment? I need to check her vitals and change out some equipment."

"Right, of course." He stood and placed a kiss on her forehead before he promised, "I'll be right back, _Sweetheart._"  
xxxxxx

Her room looked like a jungle again. The boys had all brought in flowers for her. Pink and red peonies from Professor Miles, an elaborate and exotic assortment sent by Mr. Saito, daisies and hydrangeas that the kids helped Cobb pick out, Sunflowers from Eames (he bought a bouquet of tulips as well because he had been to the flower shop with Arthur and felt like a bit underdone by him) and of course a variety of roses from The Point Man. James had insisted on a Get Well balloon even though the hospital gift shop was out of stock so a pink 'It's a Girl' balloon (because "Ari _is_ a girl, daddy") sat in the corner of the room by the reclining waiting chair. Several pictures laid on the counter by the sink (ones the kids had drawn in Saito's agents' company while the adults sat at the hospital). Ones of them holding hands and Ariadne being a princess and Ariadne being an astronaut and Ariadne with hearts all over her and a picture of James with a ton of buildings in the background that he said he made for her 'cause she likes buildings so much. Even in the dark, her room seemed lively and bright. Cobb came to visit every day but mostly stayed in the hotel or around the city with the kids. While picking stuff out to buy her had been fun for a while, they got really upset when thinking about Ariadne being hurt and James especially didn't understand why she wouldn't wake up. So Cobb thought it best to keep their minds off of it. Miles stayed every day until visiting hours were over. Eames and Arthur—who were so used to spending every second with her by now—spent the nights in her room. Eames slept in the reclining chair and Arthur either slept sitting and leaning against her bed or in the bed with her. Of course, he had to get up every time the nurses came in but it was well worth it to feel her breathing against him.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Some alarms had started to go off, waking the boys up. Eames rocked forward in his seat and stood while Arthur shot his hand to the emergency nurse button. When the nurse arrived she assured them that it was just letting them know her IV bag needed to be changed and that everything checked out fine still. It didn't hinder him from calling them every time something beeped though.

Xxxxxx

"And you're sure she'll be able to breathe once you take that off?"

"Yes Sir, we wouldn't do it if she couldn't."

He held his breath while they detached her air supply. Since her chest continued to rise and fall, he let his do the same. It was one step closer to her being alright. She hadn't really woken up yet. Not coherently. Fluttering eyes and mumbling weren't considered as her coming into consciousness. Most of the time what she said couldn't be deciphered but sometimes she would mumble "Arth" (or what sounded like it to him) and always The Point Man would be rubbing her temple, kissing her hairline and assuring her of his presence. Whenever she would twitch or flinch or her hand would fly through the air like she was reaching for something, her hand would be enveloped in the warmth of his, peppered with his lips and he'd whisper in her ear, "I'm right here…you're ok, I'm here." Sometimes the moments felt so intimate that Eames got uncomfortable. He would normally pretend to read the paper or look out the window when she would have those episodes and Arthur turned into this mush of a man the Forger never dreamed he could be. Eames was always the one to go to the cafeteria and bring back coffee or meals for Arthur because never left the room. In fact, he'd bought him some magazines and a book of crosswords to keep him busy but Arthur never cracked them open. He watched her like tv, read her like a book, listened to her like music. Even Eames who'd been around them for months now hadn't understood the fullness and completeness in their feelings for each other until the past few days.  
xxxxxx

When she blearily opened her eyes a week later and the Doctors deigned it safe to remove her heart monitors, Arthur was grabbing lunch in the cafeteria. Eames had forced him. With the start of the new week Arthur's anxiety was on a high. His friend could see the worry that she might not wake up was taking its toll. After Arthur's dream and hallucination that she had woken the night before, Eames was insistent he get out of the room. Eames, however, was in her room. When she groaned, he looked up to meet her eyes and immediately dove for the nurse button. The nurse checked her blood pressure and gave her some water for her dry, scratchy throat before the Architect squeaked, "Where are my friends?"

The nurse happily answered, "Well, one of them is sitting right over there."

The forger stood with his hand in his pockets and flashed her a genuine, adoring smile. Ariadne beamed at him and weakly reached one arm out to motion for him to come closer. He hugged her first and then leaned his hip on the edge of her bed, "And the Oscar goes to Ariadne Bourgeois for best near death performance."

She narrowed her eyes, "And the Oscar goes to the Forger for best panicking in a supporting role."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you deemed me worthy of winning this time but I must admit: my fellow nominee Arthur gave a much more moving and manic performance than I."

"He's ok?" She tried to sit up more and Eames moved to help her and re=fluff her pillows.

"A little roughed up but he's fine. I forced him to go eat lunch. He hasn't left your side. He's been sleeping in here with you."

Ariadne looked around her hospital room and laid eyes on the recliner in the corner, "On that thing?!" She breathed out, still weak from everything.

"That would be a sight!" Eames belly laughed, "Actually, that would be my uncomfortable resting place. Arthur literally sleeps in the hospital bed with you every night."

"You boys are so clingy." Ariadne teased through her scratchiness and Eames winked at her. "Thanks Eames. I appreciate you sacrificing your back alignment for me."

Eames patted her foot, "Nowhere, I'd rather sleep…Does it hurt?" He pointed to her stomach.

"Yes…a lot…but less than it did when it happened if that makes any sense…" After looking to the side and thinking for a bit she added, "and my chest feels weird when I breathe—like kind of tingly?"

This made Eames tense. Was something else wrong? His hand flexed, ready to press that magical Nurse Call button, "Uh oh, why do you think that is?"

Ariadne's evil smile surfaced and her hand plopped onto her chest, "Too…Much…Air!" She fake choked and then laughed. (It was kind of like wheezing because her voice was still fragile.) Ah, The Forger howled at the inside joke that made fun of the Point's overprotective nature. He was glad everything hadn't affected her sunny disposition at all. Eames' eyes caught movement at her window. Arthur was walking back and he'd been pulled aside by the nurse. She must be telling him that Ariadne was awake. His head sharply turned and looked into the room. Eames offered, "Arthur's back. I'll give you two a minute and grab Miles and them."

He stepped out and patted Arthur on the back as Arthur stepped in. Ariadne smiled sweetly at him. His head started shaking and his dimples appeared. The Point Man started laughing and ran his hand through his hair while he strode across the room to kneel at her side. "How are you feeling?" He placed his hand delicately on her stomach and she winced. Her stitched up gash was still sensitive. He pulled away like wildfire, his eyes wide and upset. "I'm sorry Ariadne, I f—"

"It's ok." She grabbed his hand and lightly returned it to a less sensitive place on her stomach. She kept her hand resting on his, "I'm feeling ok. Woozy and weak but I'm _alive_."

Arthur slid his hand out from under hers and anchored her neck with it, "You scared the shit out of me."

Ariadne joked, "I mean, don't I always?" It's true. She was always saying and doing things that worried him. Sneaking out of the suite, slicing her arm open while he and Eames were out, getting caught in the fire, being so forward about her feelings for him. Had she ever gone a day where she wasn't scaring the shit out of him?

He cracked a smirk but moved his caressing hand from her neck to cup her face, "Don't you ever do that to me again. I don't think I could handle it."

She further picked at him and tried to make light of the matter as she always did, "I know. Eames told me you were a basket case. Said you needed a valium."

Arthur brushed it off, "They were stitching my bullet wound. It hurt."

"You have an unnaturally high tolerance for pain…" She countered in a whisper after her voice timed out.

The Point Man's eyes saddened and his thumb rubbed her cheek, "Not the kind of pain I was in." His head dropped to her hip.

Ariadne felt bad then and turned her head to kiss his palm warmly, "I'm sorry." She ran a shaky hand through his hair, "Come on, I'm up. Don't act so droopy. You're depressing me." After a tug on his locks, he picked his head back up.

"What were you thinking?"

"That I was bleeding anyway and I might as well get good use out of it…You said improvise!" Then she brought the conversation to the lighthearted, frothy place it could be, "And it's not like I had any red thread I could use, Theseus."

"Don't call me your Theseus. I wouldn't abandon you like he did her."

"Dionysus, then?"

He drew back, mock offended. "She didn't really care for _him_."

"Then who could you possibly be?"

Arthur kissed her forehead, "Arthur."

"Wow, I didn't know I had an Arthur in my myth." She feigned surprise.

The Point Man grinned at her again, "Yep. _Your _Arthur. For as long as you want me."

"How sweet and—convenient—of you to give in to me _after _I almost died!" She played with him.

Arthur scoffed, "Please, I gave in long before that."

"Oh really?" She shook her head at him with a huge challenging smile plastered across her visage with what strength she mustered.

Arthur shot her an arrogant look and then rested his forehead on hers so that their noses were pressed together. He whispered suggestively, "It seems you've forgotten about the incredible night I gave you in the hostage quarters…"

Ariadne inhaled a sharp breath and turned her head away from him. He sat back victoriously and drank in the view of her. Her cheeks were lit with a scarlet color, her eyes were wide and sparkling and she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Arthur's conceited voice flit through the air, "Oh, I guess you do recall..."

She coyly returned to eyes to him through her lashes while the blush died down. She tried to glare but all he could see was a smile in her eyes. "It was decent."

"Decent?"

She broke into a fit of giggles, "Very, very, _brilliantly_ decent." Arthur laughed while she grabbed his tie and pulled him close for a soft reunion of their lips.

Then the door flew open and two kids ran in excitedly. Cobb patted her foot and Arthur tentatively- and hesitantly—left her side so that Miles could hug her and the kids could approach. "Look Ari! I gots you a get well bunny!"

"James, Daddy bought it…"

"But I picked it out!"

She placed it right beside her on the bed and tucked it in, "Thank you James, I love it!"

"I helped too!"

"Thanks Pippa."

"And we drew you pictures!" The one James proudly handed her had a big rainbow with a dinosaur—or it looked like one—holding a big red flower and 'gett well soon ari so we can plae cassel and sords agin. Jam3s luvs you!" The one Philippa showed her was one of Ariadne in [a very beautiful hospital dress] with flowers in her hair and flowers around her room (which in reality w_as _covered with them a la all of the men) a big heart above her bed and the words. "Feel better soon! I love you, don't worry you still look pretty. Love so much, Pippa."

"These are so good," Ariadne smiled, "But Pippa what's that long black and white thing by me?"

"Uncle Arthur! He's always right by you. Seeee? That's why I put a big heart over your bed!"

Her and Arthur share a grin over the kid's heads.

Xxxxxx

Ring.

It was 7 am when Arthur got the call.

He'd been up since five. He showered, brushed his teeth, put on the infamous three piece suit, gelled his hair and sat down to an omelet and cup of coffee while reading the New York Times. He was in-between jobs and expecting to meet up with a potential client this Wednesday. In the meantime, he was free to roam New York and wrap up the most recent job the team had worked together. The last payment was supposed to be wired in by lunch.

Cobb's name flashed across the screen of his phone. Normally they kept little contact and when Arthur called to check in, it was always periodically. The two friends had developed somewhat of a schedule of it. Upon answering, Arthur hadn't been able to utter a word before Cobb ambushed him with a question, "Have you been watching the international news this morning?"

The Point Man cleared his throat and turned the page of the paper. The stocks page proudly displayed its statistics and some doctor was explaining why coffee was bad for you (again.) "No, I hate politics. You know this."

"Yeah but Miles just called. They're doing a story on the renovation at the University. Ari's blueprints for the new wing are showing!"

Arthur turned on the tv and called The Architect into the room to see. "Ari! Your designs are on the news!"

She came running and squealing into the tv area in her pjs but then realized, "You don't think that's a problem do you? The Cobol agents—"

He shook his head and revealed the secret he'd been waiting to tell her, "Saito squared your problem with their new CEO yesterday morning. We don't have to stay under the radar anymore. We're free of them. Enjoy it, Sweetheart."

Ariadne beamed and jumped up and down with excitement, fumbled with the remote to record it on DVR while still trying to watch her designs and name flash across the screen. Arthur kissed her hair and took pride in his girl's accomplishments since the last time he'd heard about her-a year and a half ago on the International News.

**-Fin.**

xxxxxx  
To all my readers (the ones that spoke and the ones that didn't), reviewers, alerts/favorites of not only the story but me as well: It was a huge honor to write this and share it with you. You have kept me inspired and made me strive to write better for you. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed creating it for you! Its been a whirlwind and I almost wish I didn't end it here. I'd like to hear from all of you lovely people again! Please look out for my **next stories**! I have a Oneshot entitled _**First**_ and a multi-chapter fic named _**Hooded **_(in which the team deals with a serial killer for a job) both Ari/Arthur. Of course. Lol.

Thank you so much again. So much adoration from me and our favorite fictional couple! -_PrettyPrettyPlease_


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